Triumphant Poem by The Artist

It is unseen by the Worldly eyes,
but felt by the ones who persevere,
The worthy ones who against all odds; defies,
The tumult of destiny That would to them; veer.

Destiny is but just a book,
In which you write the story of your life,
It is forthcoming so no one can look,
Your part of love, success, betrayal and strife.

Think not about your age,
For it can be your greatest foe,
All the triumphant men weren't in its cage,
Of its worry, fret, angst and woe.

The elder man though worldly and wise,
Regrets over his foolish past,
Because he Thought in his youth that he wouldn't rise,
As a naive green and callow mast.

The young one being stalwart and hostile,
Pays no heed to what he does,
Or waits until he gets old and docile,
In sheer vain his persuasion goes.

History Has been The testimony,
For the one who Persevere always succeed,
Ability matters not, But can go in tyranny,
In the dignified and determined deed.

Ability is like a sun of a day,
It can illuminate darkness with sheer might,
But would run off, in the need of time away,
And would darken more the cold night.

Perseverance being a lamp for years,
Though small, patiently would glow,
And The lamp which calmly perseveres,
Would lifetime eradicate sorrow!