Here, where ink runs not as dye but blood -
a covenant forged in rhythm\'s flood -
we stand united though the spheres may turn,
each voice a sun where other suns still burn.
Michael Edwards, dawn\'s unclouded sight,
Neville, your verses pierce the veils of night.
Poetic Licence, wit\'s rapier play,
Søren Barrett, truth\'s unbending way.
Fine B, syllables like polished stone,
Yeahchanan, chanting in a timeless tone.
Violet, strength in quiet repose,
Lorna, depths where understanding grows.
Aislinn, honey-steel in every line,
Goldfinch60, light that makes shadows pine.
L.B. Mek, bedrock no storm can move,
Fay Slimm, tides that ancient rhythms prove.
Fred Peyer, architect of thought\'s new spheres -
and countless more who brighten all our years.
No algorithm\'s cold, unfeeling hand,
just souls entwined across this singing land.
My Poetic Side - not mere site, but home,
the sacred space where wandering pens may roam.
Here we endure: untamed, unchained, unbowed,
a constellation wearing truth as cloud.