Era Of My Own Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Everyone will one day speak my name, but I will be long
gone from this temporary earth, spreading across the
world like a wildfire.

Poetry will make a name for itself in the annals of his-
torical literature, at least that's what everybody keeps
telling me now.

Yet, this mere poet wonders if that will ever happen,
writing constantly, loving music being listened to, all
of it carrying me into depths of innate intellect.

A beautiful and intense environment where I can always
be myself and not worry about what others think, being
free and liberated.

Alone in an era of my own where I can enjoy letting my
self get lost in rhythms that play, enticing me into
moving with vibrant melodies and their rhythms.

Will everyone one day speak my name or will it be in
the annals of historical literature, I do not know, and
it doesn't really matter to me if it is.