In the face of life's twists and turns, you have identified your power.

Your story is woven with threads of might, conquest, and triumph.

You speak the least but do the most.

Your spirit unyielding, hour after hour.

A rose in a garden of thorns.

Your resolve is made of indestructible cords.

Who would have thought you came from the loins of phoenixes?

They labeled you a loser for so long. 

But then you rose from the very ashes you were confined to, by the opinions and predictions of these mortals. 

As the sun and moon continually spin, so does the character you play on this earth.

Your beautiful existence is a testament that stooges are short-lived. 

You are, in fact, resilient and grounded.

And my soul is incessantly pleased when you turn around and become the mastermind. 

The look of surprise and satisfaction on everyone's face every time you steal the show intrigues my little life.  

Underestimated and overlooked, yet you have modeled that no challenge is too great.

You have managed to convince all of us that although we may be familiar with glitching purposes, it gets clearer on the journey—the endless cycles, the ebb and flow.

Through your light, I am now acquainted with the art of doing.

Doing, despite not having all the answers in the palm of my hand. 

So today, my champion, I celebrate you and your underdog story.

May your victory know no bounds.