Like the merchant who claimed to have a spear that could penetrate anything

And a shield that nothing could penetrate

This is a paradox, and it will be loved by many

For the same reasons that many hate

As the wise young man with dreadlocks

Grows older and wiser... though baldness is his fate

He knows when to slow his pace, where haste would make him late

In due time his meekness would pay off

And they will say "His insignificance made him great."

Fly on the wall... unseen to all

Watching and laying in wait

In his principles he remains grounded, which allows him to levitate

Above the chaos

And find sanity in madness

Sanity... to calculate

To make choices, from experience of indecision

Without taking aim, to hit his target with utmost precision

A rational mind, complimented by gut feeling

Result oriented, but if they found out his method

It would probably leave them perplexed, like an honest man caught stealing.