Strokes of hues laid here beneath,
Scream the sound a crowd can read
Every me, lives in a never-ending staircase
Head go dim and lit as the world spins wild
Here, lucky isn’t the famous child
Nor the baby born on a higher step
For lucky, is the mind with power
Fortune favors the mind with peace
What for are the stairs bordered with sturdy shoulders?
When one’s trained to focus gazing up
No matter how slow, no matter how little
If you’ll move and move, you’ll get there