On some nights,
the northern star seem to,
shine a little dimmer;
pretending to fade away.
Goals, aims, aspirations grow feeble;
Hope seem to faint within this cacophony;
feel defeated, dejected.
This spark that demotivates,
This spark of distractions,
left ignored, may burn down
your house of ambitions.
This agitation of the mind,
fuel it with a revolution of zeal,
To seek comfort,
and settle for the minimal,
is the idiosyncrasy of a defeated soul.
The victor- the one immortal,
conquers the inertia of failures.
Vanquish the pride of fulfillment,
build a ceaseless appetite for triumphs.