Where It Really Starts

Before screens glow and numbers move,

Before ads speak or products prove,

There is dirt under open skies,

And quiet hands with open eyes.

Stone waits still, oil sleeps below,

Trees stand patient, rivers flow.

Nothing moves, nothing earns,

Until effort decides to turn.

A shovel breaks the silent ground,

A spark is struck, a skill is found.

Hours traded, sweat exchanged,

Value is born where time is spent.

That value turns to measured sound,

Coins and numbers passed around.

Not wealth, not power, not control,

Just proof of work, a counted role.

Money moves where people move,

It grows when hands decide to prove

That raw and rough can be refined,

That thought and labor shape the kind.

Stores fill up, the lights stay on,

Because someone built before the dawn.

The cycle holds, the engine stays,

Alive through ordinary days.

Nothing starts with dreams alone,

It begins with action, clear and shown.