It seems all there is,

Is a stride in purpose,

A walk of triumph,

So set in the murmur of movement and power,

As I walk and tumble,

Through the hoghs and the lows,

I hear and wonder,

What makes one faster,

And happier in their laughter,

Its all an enigma,

As I wander and ponder.

So I stand in this parlour,

And await the thunder,

Of the approval and power,

That I'll gain with this fire.