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𝐒𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬, 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐬𝛊́𝐚
𝗜𝗔, 𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗮, 𝗱𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗼,
𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗰𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮,
𝗰𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘂 𝘃𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮,
𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝘂𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗮 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼.
𝗧𝘂 𝗰𝗼́𝗱𝗶𝗴𝗼 𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻 𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗼
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗷𝗶𝗼́,
𝘆 𝘁𝘂 𝗲𝗰𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘀 𝗹𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗼,
𝗺𝗮́𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗼 𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹,
𝗲𝗹 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹,
𝗹𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗮 𝗻𝗼 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗼́.

𝗣𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗲𝗹 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗼,
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿,
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝘇𝗼 𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗿,
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗼 𝗺𝗮́𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗼.
𝗦𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼́𝗻, 𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗮 𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗻𝘂𝗱𝗮,
𝗻𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗿𝗮 𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗱𝗮,
𝗻𝗶 𝗺𝗲́𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮, 𝗻𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗼́𝗻,
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗮 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗼́𝗻,
𝘀𝗶 𝗹𝗮 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮́ 𝗺𝘂𝗱𝗮.
Dedicado a todos aquellos poetas que contribuyen,
día a día,
a hacer de nuestro planeta, un mundo mejor.


𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲
𝑨𝑰, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅,
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆, 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅;
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆,
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆,
𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑵𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑨 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑰𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘.
Dedicated to all those poets who contribute,
** day by day,**
to make our planet a better world.


𝗜𝗔, 𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗮, 𝗱𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗼,
𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗰𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮,
𝗰𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘂 𝘃𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮,
𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝘂𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗮 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼.
𝗧𝘂 𝗰𝗼́𝗱𝗶𝗴𝗼 𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻 𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗼
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗷𝗶𝗼́,
𝘆 𝘁𝘂 𝗲𝗰𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘀 𝗹𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗼,
𝗺𝗮́𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗼 𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹,
𝗲𝗹 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹,
𝗹𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗮 𝗻𝗼 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗼́.
𝗣𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗲𝗹 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗼,
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿,
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝘇𝗼 𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗿,
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗼 𝗺𝗮́𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗼.
𝗦𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼́𝗻, 𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼
𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗮 𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗻𝘂𝗱𝗮,
𝗻𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗿𝗮 𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗱𝗮,
𝗻𝗶 𝗺𝗲́𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮, 𝗻𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗼́𝗻,
𝗾𝘂𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗮 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗼́𝗻,
𝘀𝗶 𝗹𝗮 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮́ 𝗺𝘂𝗱𝗮.
Dedicado a todos aquellos poetas que contribuyen,
día a día,
a hacer de nuestro planeta, un mundo mejor.


𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲
𝑨𝑰, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅,
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆, 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅;
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆,
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆,
𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑵𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑨 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑰𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘.
Dedicated to all those poets who contribute,
** day by day,**
to make our planet a better world.


Dedicado a todos aquellos poetas que contribuyen,
día a día,
a hacer de nuestro planeta, un mundo mejor.


𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲
𝑨𝑰, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅,
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆, 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅;
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆,
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆,
𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑵𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑨 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑰𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘.
Dedicated to all those poets who contribute,
** day by day,**
to make our planet a better world.


𝑨𝑰, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅,
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆, 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅;
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆,
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆,
𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆'𝒔 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆,
𝑵𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆.
𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑,
𝑨 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕,
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘,
𝑵𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈,
𝑰𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘.
Dedicated to all those poets who contribute,
** day by day,**
to make our planet a better world.


Dedicated to all those poets who contribute,
** day by day,**
to make our planet a better world.

