One day, he sat.
He told his mind, “Write.”
Just five minutes, nothing more.
The words came, plain and weak.
It felt strange, even silly.
The next day, he read.
The lines looked small, yet alive.
Inside was a spark, an idea.
That idea grew into tomorrow’s writing.
Day after day, he tried.
The mind grew calm and steady.
Ideas filled his small notebook.
Soon, the notebook became a treasure.
It began as practice only.
But practice turned into fuel.
Fatigue left. Joy took place.
Writing daily led him forward.