Socrates at sunset in Athens Socrates walked the dusty streets,With questioning eyes and worn bare feet.No scrolls he wrote, no throne he claimed,Yet truth was the fire by which he burned and flamed. He asked the proud, he asked the wise,Pulled gentle threads from certain lies.“What do you know?” his quiet art,A mirror held to …
Category: Rhyming
A collection of lyrical verses that flow with rhythm and rhyme, capturing emotion, imagery, and meaning through musical language.