I climbed the mighty Iroko;
I leaped from its heights to the earth below
But no lips sought to sing my praise.
So I shall beat the drums
And write for myself an ode.
I rode rode on Failure’s horse,
Through fields of fear,
Into Success stables.
I swam the raging seas of doubt,
And lived to say “Eureka!” on this shore.
I collected the bile of rejection
And the frothing spittle of shame
And brewed for myself
The sweet wine of honor.
Now, all men sit at my table
Seeking a drop from my bottle.
Castles did I build
From the stones of scorn
And my battlements I crafted
From the missiles of my foes.
Now I here I stand,
King, in the safety of my walls.
I sing my song
For the one, drowning
In the spittle of them that mock.
And the one, buried
In the sands of a thousand falls.