Commonplace is not  waste
But laws of motions in book,
Dad gives you in early night.

Knowledge stands on giants
Shoulders to scale mountains
In self doubts kissing flanks.

Poems are not mere to know
But see down beyond gravity
Through common dust piles.

Apples are not for polishing
Being wonders of earth dust,
Here and why they fall to  it.

Knowledge piles up over dust
As dad’s commonplace book,
When dads and sons are dust.

(Newton kept a common place book , a gift from his dad, into which he copied ideas from his readings supplementing them with his own notes. He called it a waste book)

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