In the Year of the Snake, lithe and wise,
I shed the past, let old ways die.
A body reborn, like bark to flame,
Strength and spirit call my name.

Coiled with purpose, firm and tight,
I strike the dawn, embrace the fight.
No lazy limbs, no sluggish crawl—
I rise, I climb, I conquer all.

Roots run deep, but so do I,
With wind-lit breath and sharpened eye.
Muscles tempered, sinews strong,
Each step, each rep, a warrior’s song.

The Wood Snake moves with grace and might,
Silent, steady, swift in flight.
No wasted motion, no retreat,
Each trial met, each foe defeated.

Through sweat and fire, through will and pain,
The path is long, yet I remain.
For in this year, with whispered fate,
I build a self no storm can break.