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In a world that spins with idealist dreams,
There moves a force, silent as it seems.
A realist juggernaut, unbowed, unswayed,
By fanciful wishes and hopes arrayed.
It trudges through the mire of daily grind,
With eyes wide open, not to dreams confined.
It knows the weight of every stone and brick,
And builds its path, steady, layer by thick.
No castle in the air, no flighty spire,
It lays foundations in the solid mire.
With every step, it carves a way so true,
A road for many, not just for the few.
The realist juggernaut, it does not stop,
For every peak, it sees a chance to top.
It does not falter at what might go wrong,
But learns and pushes ever more along.
In the heart of this juggernaut, there lies,
A truth that under all the dreams, it spies:
That reality is the toughest art,
And mastering it takes a steadfast heart.
So let the dreamers dream their dreams so bright,
The realist juggernaut moves on in might.
For in the end, when all is said and done,
It’s the realist’s road that takes us to the sun.
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