The mind grows like stone reshaped by rain.
Not in torrents, but drip after drip.
You want fireworks, quick sparks, don’t you?
A flash, applause, the rush of the thing.
But this is a grind, ox versus plow.
The soil resists, the hands blister raw.
Books heavy as boulders, breaking your back.
The clock sneers; you hear its cruel ticking.
Truth hides behind corners, laughs at fools.
No shortcuts here, no magician’s quick hand.
Each word learned like carving through granite.
Each thought gained, a stuck thorn plucked out.
You curse the slowness, chew on the struggle.
But wait, grit and blood make the diamond.
Sisyphus climbing, stone up, stone down.
The real lesson: hard labor never ends.