It dances swiftly through the shadows,

Past the milky sky,

Reaching for the stars.

It sneaks through the city walls,

Hiding in the alleys,

Running under the crystal blue sky.

It creeps past the buildings,

Elegentaly leaping from rooftops,

A mystery to be solved.

It heals yours wounds,

Capturing your pain within,

An echo to be heard for thousands of miles.

It wants to speak,

Instead shows off,

From the words it’s built from.

It paints a picture,

Through the moves it illustrates with,

Leaving the rest in awe.

It is spoken from many,

Having a value to what it means,

The most powerful language of all.

It is that beat you can feel in your heart,

Sometimes piercing through,

Leaving a scar.

It connects every move,

A sensation you gravitate towards,

Something that rocks you to sleep.

It flows like the river,

Threading all the pieces together,

Creating a one of a kind mural.

What is this you ask?

It’s the Voice of Poetry.