The world holds its breath when you appear—
a symphony of light, a song so clear.
Today, the universe bends to say,
*"This is your day—command the fray."*
Not just sunlight on the sea,
but tides that bow to your decree.
For you, time falters, dares to sway,
just to linger in your sway.
Blow the candles—not just wishes,
but whole horizons, galaxies in kisses.
(Let physics pause; let logic bend—
you are the rule, not just the trend.)
Gifts decay, and cakes grow sweet,
but your name echoes in the heartbeat
of every dawn that learns anew:
the world was made to orbit *you*.
Happy Birthday.
(Now claim your throne—
the stars are yours,
the sky, your own.)
0 comments