Success Poem by Anthony Liccione

Success is never
mastered
only practiced,
time plays the part mostly.
It takes a failing will
to try again,
the will to fail
to remain humble.

It's the failure
people are prone to,
when dreams
finally fail them,
and go unwished.
Ceased to be as dust.

The infamous statue
that leans in the closet
against the concrete
of darkness,
where a stream of light
resurrects from the key
hole,
hold
still never reaching for
the doorknob
to turn a life alive.