From the pen , to the slate , my hands will participate , preconceived thoughts they will multiply , death muted ears , my words die , the sower I am of my own seed , every time I think , my thoughts feed , great ideas begin to grow , if I pay attention , I reap sow , guided by my insights , that is what landed planes , from the first flight , to visualize is a God sent , inside my head , lives a blueprint , let me exercise my mind and believe , my thoughts come to life , when the pen leads.