Here plain here rough.

A stroll. Lest rainy day or hard tire,

Make earnings tough.

At first I cruise in honest career
No bruise, it is all truce;

Butterfly loose, a sprite in fine color,

I am all clues, sans blues.

Soon, dear and peer want more fire.

'The crowd', they shout,

'Is near! Will soon head past', they fear;

'Give bout, save a rout'.

I turn around, but see no ground to fret,

Nor a throng.

Just fairies in hurry where I too tread

For bread, with song.

My walk though, now a trot with elves and their lot,

For I must get far ahead;

Relative to that others have and what -

Beyond daily bread.

Key, not what I need but what others have,

So I must run

Further, so the world does not with me catch up

To love, share and know.

Today, I fly in speeds with great fury;

Friend and or foe,

Now dot-like sights from aircraft in hurry,

Look up in awe.

Some long to see me and renew old times

With simple talk;

But I have soared high in quest of climes

Where selfish dreams flock.

Oh, what measure we faultily adopt!

Not of what we need,

But that of what others have. Don't we know vanities flop?

So much for the greed we heed!

Let me return to life and common friends

And simply talk