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On Life’s Imitating Poetry

It’s curious how akin to poetry life is:
By now, after all the golden age stardust are legends and their estate is wide,
You can choose from templates of each era and lay out your words
It will be easier once you’ll only have to find the (contextual) synonym with the sound that will mirror
In the worst case scenario, you’ll have a hard time fitting it,
But it’s granted cause

On the other hand,
If you leave open the possibility and blank the page, you can create at your will
And the pattern will come then, by itself. Life, I mean, the poem, will create itself,
Then, you’ll can proudly call yourself a creator

It will be harder, but always more exciting than being a scrivener or the follower of someone else’s golden path
You’ll be the stardust, the flowering legend — as to be seen as such one day