speed’s illusion

Some rush, some crawl, yet paths unfold,  

A race of time, or so we're told.  

But speed’s illusion blinds the view—  

It’s not how fast, but what flows through.  

One digs a trench, hands worn and tight,  

Another wields a tool just right.  

Same earth is moved, yet one has more,  

Not by toil, but leverage’s core.  

Some chase the coin, each hour spent,  

While others make their effort rent.  

One step, one wage—a common plight,  

One step, ten streams—the sharper sight.  

The weight of work is not the key,  

It’s how you stack it, can’t you see?  

A single move, a ripple wide,  

Turns effort’s wave to fortune’s tide.  

So move with purpose, not with haste,  

Each step well-placed is never waste.  

For those who seem to fly ahead,  

Aren’t running fast—they think instead.