In the quiet dawn, where thoughts arise,
A poet’s soul begins to soar,
Through realms of dreams and endless skies,
Rilke’s words forevermore.
He wandered paths both dark and bright,
With pen in hand and heart in tow,
Each verse he wrote, a beacon’s light,
In fields where only few dare go.
His life a dance, a fleeting waltz,
Between the shadows and the sun,
A melody of love and faults,
In every line, a battle won.
The echoes of his distant voice,
Still linger in the hearts of men,
Reminding us to make a choice,
To seek the light, and love again.