Frustration

The lame taste of water in your mouth
When you just thought
You were going to taste blood;
The feel of cold water, into your face-
Just when you thought you were flying
And wake up to realise you are sinking
In your own dark, hollow, watery grave;
You clutch at the moon
And open your palms
Only to find a fistful of sand;
You set yourself ablaze,
And instead of the perfume of sweet success
All you smell is you own overburnt flesh;
Your indomitable castle
Of pride, of honour, strength and confidence
Crumbling into nothingness;
When, in the race to vindicate yourself
You only manage to bruise yourself;
When, in the battle of nerves,
All you manage to do is to snap your's,
Is all lost?

NO!
The phoenix never burns himself out
But rises from the ashes, glorious as ever;
What is an eagle, that doesn't soar high
After suffering initial setbacks?

The sun has only eclipsed
It will come out from the dark again
Blazing in its own Glory.