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Poetry
SPARKS
📅 16 September 2026❤️ 53 likes💬 111 comments🚀 142 times monetized
Once upon a time, when I was still a boy
I cleared my throat and stood forlorn and sad,
Because I’d lost the only friend I’d known;
Who used to lurk about the house, inside,
And out, or hide behind the trunks of trees.
All day, he’d scratch and scrape and cause a scene.
*
To my blind eye, it seems to be
Too tough to see the truth be told
I am a bird, so like the owl
My gumption only comes at night.
It ruined me once, but never more
Shall I see red when I am blue.
*
I struck a match to light a mighty blaze,
Not wavering, I stood my ground alone;
A rock, I was, a strong and mighty force,
But wait. Did I forget to wet my wick
With oil to spark the righteous fire of rage,
So I could burn for all to plainly see?
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✦ Story behind this post
Maya discovered ancient pottery shards at Keeladi, each fragment igniting stories dormant for centuries. Those earthen whispers connected her to Srivilliputhur's soul, revealing how ancestors shaped civilization through patient hands.
That evening, PaybookClub members gathered under starlight, passing the artifacts around. Their shared wonder rekindled something precious—a collective remembrance that we're threads in an endless tapestry. Maya realized heritage isn't locked in museums; it breathes through us, sparking clarity about who we are.
When communities gather to honor the past, present moments crystallize into purpose. Those ancient sparks still illuminate our way forward together.
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