The conjurer, the puppeteer of words

There lives a puppeteer of words,
A conjurer of melodies
And a lord of the literary world.
He asks none to bow to him;
But not unknown is the might of his works.
He prepares a concoction of the right words,
Which has an essence of divinity
And serenity disguised.

He casts the words as actors of his direction;
Each of which plays its part in this stint.
He associates expressions, with words
Putting which in order, sentences he quotes;
The sentences form verses of his song.
He places them all in perfection of a hymn,
Built upon a foundation of faith, in his puppeteer, God
And in gratitude for his pristine skill.

He passionately broods over his literature,
The words of which like jewels embellish it;
Exalting the glory of his conjurer, God,
Whose reach is the firmament and yonder.
He pulls the strings on his words
And makes them fall in the right place.
Rewarded is he graciously for his work
And redeemed is he of his earthly sins.

His work is healing and has a soothing tone,
And the rhythm is infectious and in trances it place,
But consecrates even an adversary to become a friend.
The works encompass his life’s purpose,
And a pinnacle is reached every time.
Many enter with him in the quest to attain salvation;
In their lives, a holy intervention they seek,
So that their progeny be not dolorous.

The deepest of revelations come forth, hence;
And no trickery; nothing remotely abstract is there
and not a hint of blasphemy, the works bear,
And wherein every idea is concrete and fair.
Our prophetic poet is at the heart of his works,
He is the soul of his creations.
Enshrined is he in his work forever
And enthroned is he in hearts of his believers!

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