There’s much remains for building, ev’ry age,
And architects and builders born, each day,
Who build for love, and not for fame or wage,
But just because a maker’s wired that way.
Whoever she or he might be, they find
That possibilities are far from tapped to nil,
And that some creativity of mind
Is all they need a whole new world to fill
With color and with pattern and with light,
And shapes of things that no one’s ever seen,
And for whom there’s no color that’s too bright,
And whose ideas may one day be routine,
But for whom, just to build, is captivating;
And so, for now, will just delight creating.