I open the fortunes like a key,
The key inhibits them from disaster,
The keys jingle in their accusations,
But the keys also find others.
These doors must fit the glove,
A handle turned is of the knobs;
Windows creak and lightning enters
The air during stormy storms.
The real fortune defends its gold,
For the coins pile up and are huge
Like rocks of the kind called boulders,
They look towards the goal and life.