You wear a million faces, walk a thousand miles a day,
in moccasins you're renting, following a map you've thrown away.
You sometimes see a shadow, of the face that knows the score,
on window glass you're passing on your rush out one more door.
But the challenge isn't seeing, as the truth is always there...
the challenge is in doing things that no one else will dare.
And the largest feather in a hat or notch upon a post,
goes not to he or she who spends their life or does the most...
but to the one who who walks away from reasons built to sooth,
the part of you that knows the difficult things when they're yours to do.