The Spark That Found Its Name

The Spark That Found Its Name

Potential waits in the dark,

Impulse strikes — a fleeting spark,

Vital flow set into motion,

Born of endless, silent explosion.

Energy stirs, the pulse begins,

A whisper in the void turns to winds,

Spinning spheres, a rhythm true,

Suspended in an endless blue.

Spirit finds its solid ground,

In stillness, its purpose profound,

It stays to learn, to shape, to grow,

A watcher, a builder, a hidden glow.

Magnet draws, the unseen thread,

Pulling thoughts from where they’ve fled,

Forming patterns, a cosmic dance,

Each movement — not by chance.

Rhythm hums as time unwinds,

Ideas take root, like spiraling vines,

Flowing forward — yet looping back,

A circle drawn, a winding track.

The spark becomes a steady light,

Illuminating wrong from right,

A beacon calling from the unknown,

Saying softly, You were never alone.

Creation hums, the path is clear,

All that was... has led you here.

And now you stand, both lost and found —

A builder's feet upon solid ground.

For what’s been built will surely grow,

From endless questions... to endless know.