Story

“If—”
By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son! ■

“If—” updated
By Phil Cain

If you can cling your power when all about you
Are losing hairs and blaming it on you,
If you can win reelection when many doubt you,
And profit from creating delusions too;
If you can boast and never tire of boasting,
Or smile, while spreading malicious lies,
Or don’t allow haters stop your hating,
And wage war wisdom, in genius guise.

If you can lie—and not make lying seem to matter;
If you can talk—and not make meaning an aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat both as a BIG WIN just the same;
If you can bear to hear the lies you’ve spoken
Used by enemies as an undermining tool,
Or see your words debunked, destroyed, disproven,
And still make some headlines, then, cool:

If you can make one whole heap of dough
And risk it all on the turn of a legal case,
And lose, and restart from zero, crypto
And never breathe a word to your base;
If you can convince a people with no clue
To dream of power and, beyond that, nothing,
And so destroy their dignity to defend you
With their Will saying just: ‘Kerching!’

If you can talk to crowds without autocue,
And walk like a king even when stripped bare,
If neither cronies nor foes can hurt you,
If support comes with no need to care,
If you can fill a minute in the world of socials
With sixty seconds’ of idle provocation,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Meme, my son! ■