If letters were but scribbles and numbers, mere doodles,
A world adrift, in chaotic muddles.
Ink on parchment, lines entwined,
No sense in letters, no math to find.
A's and B's, once clear and crisp,
Now lost in scribbles, their meaning adrift.
And 1's and 2's, once orderly in score,
Now aimless doodles, nothing more.
No tales spun, no equations solved,
In this realm where meaning dissolved.
The alphabet's song silenced, its rhythm lost,
Numbers' logic shattered; their sequence tossed.
Yet within this chaos, a glimmer, a clue,
A palette of colors, vibrant and true.
For within the scribbles and doodles, a canvas vast,
Creativity thrives, unbound and steadfast.
No rules to bind, no patterns to ensnare,
Just freedom to create, without a care.
Letters and numbers, in their jumbled state,
Become the raw materials from which we innovate.
So let the scribbles dance, the doodles play,
In this world where chaos holds sway.
For amidst disorder, beauty finds its way,
In the colors of creation, where answers may lay.
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