The starter’s gun,
The rising sun,
That chord when overture’s begun

The empty page,
The fresh-poured glass,
A newly sprouted blade of grass

The bright “hello”,
The future plan,
Made by some woman or some man;

We love
more than death,
The inhale and exhale of breath,

We love to start,
To fill our sails,
To strive and reach
all life entails.

We were not made
To fall and bend,
but to begin
‘gain and again.