Ch 351: The Rebirth of Red.
He died in vain, a poet unknown,
Ashes to wind, a heart of stone.
Each night he wrote a verse,
Writing was his favourite curse.
Reincarnated as a boy with no name,
No memories, nor spark or flame.
Until one day, by fate's soft thread,
He found a poetry site, signed in red.
A scramble of words, left in each rhyme,
Beloved strangers forgotten in time.
His poems touched hearts he never knew,
Engraved for eternity, a spark felt true.
He scrolled through them, line by line,
Each comment, a candle, soft and divine.
Tears welled up, burdening the skies,
For a poet reborn, never truly dies.