Starting Note
I save ideas as scribbles,
Pages full of vagueness.
I treasure dreams completely,
And use them oh so willingly.
What’s the point of emptiness?
Where’s the need for pining?
Ideas grow the more you use,
Dreams increase with telling,
So whatever the note I have here,
I’ll make something from it,
Big or small, bold or quiet,
Let it form and then design it.










