The Margin, by Leah Mukhtarzad

Within the margin of a humble page,

Five simple words rested, small and slight;

No trumpet marked their entrance to the stage,

No star announced its unexpected light.

I read it once and thought but little then,

A passing note among my scattered lines;

Yet years would turn their slow and patient pen,

Revealing hidden meanings over time.

For while I searched my work for every flaw,

And weighed each verse against imagined art,

Another eye perceived what I ne’er saw-

There is a confident voice within my heart.

Thus from a corner where few readers stray,

One line still serves as a guide for me ahead