Sitting pretty at eighteen thinking what it'd be at eighty. 
It's easy to crave success,
The only phase in life you wish never had recess, 
This delirium tremens blows in the quivering air, 
Seems like the sporadic wind that blows in and out , once in a while, revitalising every aspiration and ambition with it's divine surge.
The moonlight is again a distant dream, Makes me wonder will I admonish the same once I'm eighty.
There is no epitomy for success, because need and want are like step- brothers. They share the same blood, and yet are biological enemies. 
The truth is never hidden, all of us constitute it. 
If there is ever a paucity of truth seekers , it is only because most of us breed in contempt.
Desiring success is always an easy choice.
Delivering potential is easier, except when we deliberately step on quicksand in our ignominy. 
There is no end to desire, the human race is placed on an eternal quagmire.
If I feel I can conclude with this segment, it'd be wrong and unjust, because for anyone to continue sitting pretty till eighty, there's still time. 
You're never too late, time is with you.
Destiny is never final until you're there.
Nirvana is unsatisfactory .