The butterfly has to tear its way through cocoon.
Every child has to kick his way through the womb.
Good steel is made passing it
many a times through furnace,
no gold that's not melt well, glows.
God gave me pains to not make me wither
but in an effort to call me hither
If not me then who?
if not now then when?
Who is better built to endure?
Be brave enough to pass through pain's den
Thank you O' lord for choosing me
uplifting me from mere existence
for believing the muscles that support my back
for giving my blood its redness
for making me walk through thorns
to know what flowers mean.
O storm i beckon thee
to test my roots that grip the ground
I am no leaf to sway in your strength
For i have seen the gods will
in stripping all privileges from me
and make you appreciate my naked strength.
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