Do

A blank page.
An unwritten book.
A blossoming flower.
A rapid with unrestrained rage.
A picture of will.

The blank page
became the preamble.
The unwritten book,
the constitution.
The flower was the first.
And the rapid carved
a contution,
on the chest of a canyon.

They know not
what they are.
They know not
what they'll be.
All they know,
that there they are
and that they do.

Wake, walk, run.
Do best what you do.
There will atleast be one
witness of all.
The almighty and shining sun.