Do you shape it, or let it grow?
Do you guide the stream, or let it flow?
A place can be built, or simply found,
Held in the soil, in the paths on the ground.

A hand may design, but the land will reply,
Through roots that wander and birds that fly.
Meaning is shared where footsteps meet,
Where memory gathers in the folds of the street.

Good design lives where edges blur—
Between what is made, and what may occur.
So do you hold it? Or let it decide?
The answer waits where people and place collide.