Oft I long for greatness,
To taste of the cup that few do,
Tho I know it is rich with solitude
Alas, but to be great,
To bear that soul bursting forth,
Soaring to heights incomprehensible!
But I understand the cost,
And I swallow potential
As part if the dutiful repast,
Seasoned with bitter mediocrity,
Shall the flavor lean to regret?