A new book, I open,
I smile at the blanks
The pages that await
me to fill them up.
Words flow, in bursts
I aspire a deluge
but, sometimes its dry
I don’t give up
Mediocrity seems to
be my trait, defined.
Quality, while sought,
Quantity persists.
A start, that’s half way
To the destination
of completion, of the end
And, that is my aim.
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