Oh, fortune's wheel that spins both high and low,

Thy hand seems fickle, yet thou canst be tamed.

Not through mere chance doth serendipity grow,

But by the deeds where effort is proclaimed.

The lucky soul looks not for fate’s decree,
But steps with courage where the path’s unclear.
They plant the seeds of opportunity,
And tend them well with hope and steady cheer.

Prepare thy heart, and when the winds arise,
Embrace their force, for they may steer thee right.
In failure’s ash, let phoenix dreams surprise,
And lift thee higher on their burning flight.

For luck’s no gift bestowed by stars above—
It thrives in toil, resilience, and love.