It's the start; it's the start of something full,
To afresh, distill— to anew
The light comes to glisten my body,
For I stand up to prove that I'm worthy.

It's the start; it's the start of a living life,
Like a growing sprout that wants to reach the sky
From a beck to a deep, deep ocean,
Slowly rises in erratic motions.

It's the end; it's the end of hiding behind the bellows,
To drive you to populate this room that's cacophonous yet hollow
Freshly renewed, fled from the rust,
Purified till the liquid turns to a fuss.

It's the time to rise up,
And bid goodbye to the yesteryear's sulk
So start thine upcoming labor—
And unleash thine inner traitor!