A Dangerous Ambition

Desire for Fruition

My dear child –

Such desire for success, how it seduces your life.

Such a hunger to progress, still feeding its appetite.

Oh familiar late nights – what is worth the guilty pleasure

Of indulging one's desire to attain one's leisure?

Acting like an artist scraping the minimal,

But your paintings – how they remain abysmal.

Yet you gleam with wonder and fruitful hope,

To suckle on dried grapes, naive to how it burns your throat.

To be anything, they said, it's all in your youthful hands.

Just plant the seed, feed the need, and you'll learn how to stand.

Let the drive take you, there's no need to steer the wheel,

Deal the cards – apparently life's a gamble.

But what with poor soil can you harvest then?

If the gambler's a gambler and all of his money's spent.

But dear child –

Rome wasn't built in a day, and birth can come from ruins.

Just work hard and learn to dispel your ill-formed delusions.

You converse of the future with such determination.

And remain optimistic, still gripped by your vision.

And perhaps a notable fellow such as thee,

Will succeed – be the public's new honouree.

But first place is always reserved for one,

And the rest watch the thread of their dreams slowly come undone.

Empty – the glass reads; so you pour yourself another drink,

Choosing not to think now that your career's on the brink.

Ten years ago was a fairy's tale still in reach

Now you're drugged up and that fairy's gone to sleep.

Why put in all those wasted worthless hours?

If your birth right's merely a basket of fading flowers?

So dear child –

Release your grip, watch your desire escape like a balloon.

Dip your dreams in the water and just watch how its skin prunes.


A dangerous ambition, this assumption that dreams are a given.

But all it is is repetition determined by competition.

Fools with this superstition pay tuitions, attempting fruition,

But these fools – how they lack the position to achieve acquisition.

Still a deadly condition, this overburdening optimism.

Oh how you remain prey to this noxious, treacherous ambition.