Upon the rolling dust, lingering in my nostrils
You found me crowned with infancy joy
Painted up to the head,
With a tale that tailored my tomorrow in bliss
Denied being a roll of chance,
That Gambled life to be what it is.
As upon the rolling dust, blistered upon my hands
You found me chiseled to be a provider
Natured by those of the old,
That upon the sweat of my head
My stomach will find a rescue
No! Not on soft hands but on happy blisters.
For upon the rolling dust, served sweetness upon my tongue
You found me scarred by a taste of royalty
Birthed from dust the gave way to the lush-ful green
Inherited from the ancient crown
Where smoke spoiled the sky
To fill a child to life.
Upon the rolling dust, embedded on the mind
You found me endorsed in royalty bliss
Where the dust upon my feet spoke loudly
Creating a rhythm unforgettable to life
As it was the rods held me from infancy
Learning to walk on kingship roles.
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