Something new, a new idea with dreams of specialty;
To me, an idea feels special, different;
With a sparkle throughout my brain,
A tingling sensation.

Almost as unique as white, white
moves, how? In a zigzag!
Trying to wander through the world,
The world of colors, flying through...

As my new idea surrenders to
white light flashing by, the white light,
Is intercepted at its greatest,
By the mighty whisper wondering by.

The whisper swirls, peeks overhead, and
I can see it! A music book full of notes,
Changing into a pattern, blocking the
fresh idea glistening in white light, to disappear.

But, in all hopes, even the rock bottom
of this idea, will cease again,
As the soaked, creeping white light
shines brightly overhead, what do you seen then?