Impulse is a fresh horse
So ride him whilst you can
The future is an empty glass
Waiting to be filled, by man.
You must try and walk the narrow trail
And not ride the shandryan.
Use wise the cloak of familiarity
As does the rickshaw man.
Each hour is new and uncertain
Each day your own to fill
Avoid the devouring limelight
As does the small whippoorwill.
To the hungry, egg, is chicken
So to the poor give what you can
Hide not your spoor on the narrow trail
For who sees the rickshaw man?
When the paper lantern lights the
Walk not in crooked ways
Beseech the gods to walk with you
And watch o’er the sheep that strays.
The pack that hunts must share the kill
The lonely tiger hunts to plan
Running swiftly with both stealth and skill
Just like the rickshaw man.