What drives a man to achieve his goals? Motivation of course!

The enthusiastic mindset that if you work hard, you'll achieve.
The unhindered perspective that compels you to think about the end goal and ignore the hardships that attempt to impede your progress towards greatness.
The idea that putting your best foot forward will gain the admiration of a metaphorical Hermes who will then grant you his winged sandals to propel you above the rest of your peers and out of your unsatisfactory situation.

What drives a man to succeed in his ventures? Motivation of course!

A burst of energy that says "I can do it if I believe I can." despite limitations on your strength or your intelligence or your character.
An aura that surrounds you and invigorates your humors, enticing your senses as well as giving you a mask that hides your unsure demeanor.
It's a revelation, that motivation, which enlightens the soul and frees the body from the chains that marked the end of it's abilities.

What drives a man to accomplish milestones for himself? Perhaps it manifests itself in something other than motivation.

It could be the desire to find acceptance, to be wanted, to get that simple thumbs up that sends a message that needs not be spoken. "You did well."
Possibly it would be the wish, the simple wish that a man will have done something worth remembering in the brief existence that he has, something he can look back on and think to himself, "I didn't do half-bad on that, did I?"
Teetering on the self-existential reflecting concepts, it could just be that man wishes to find fulfillment by filling his daily activities with anything. And that the greater the activity, the laborious hours put into completion, here man finds solace in putting meaning into his day to day living. Thus we find that goals are merely tick marks, road signs on the long drive from life's start to inevitable death.

This, this is all motivation. Anything that places reins over a man's mind and hits the spur against his brain, in hopes that this will help him move forward and do what he believes is necessary to do.

Motivation is to place one's self in this self-deprecating position as to be a slave to ambition in order to be satisfied with one's life. And to think that motivation is a blessing that leads to self-improvement.

Motivation is truly the mind's greatest illusion.

The vicious cries of the darkened sky, with lights that blind the untrained eye.
Looming clouds become booming clouds as flashes engulf the midnight dark.
Times like these there is to be, more in the skies than the eye can see.
Past the dark silhouettes and the streaks of blue, you find they describe a piece of you.
The indecisive ground on which you stand, your opinions which clash and change with time.
Lightning where your revelations begin, and not a memory of where your previous thoughts had been.
The storm it moves with a lowly crawl, an inconvenience for those who'd wish it's withdrawal.
But I enjoy the storm for with it comes the idle perspective. Rain and clouds, time to take shelter in your head.
Imagine a place where the weather is nicer, but it's not just the weather that you wish to get away from.
It's those issues that trouble you even when the skies are bright blue, those issues that don't come and go with its hue.
Wish yourself on an island away from your trouble, where there is nary a cloud and the daylight hours double.
Soft sands swallow your sensitive toes, and your eyes land on the ocean's calm glow.
A place where you can sit under the shade of a silent shore cove, and relax in a hammock of the jungle's natural grove.
Pleasures innumerable like the grains of sand on the beach and troubles the same number as the clouds in the sky.
The blues and the greens and the browns and the big orange in the sky. Grey's and Black's don't find themselves welcome in paradise.
Wrapped in a linen of pure white you walk tall knowing that nothing can break you from happiness.
But then a sudden CRASH. You're startled by the sudden sound and open your eyes to an unhappy sight.
You're back in the melancholy room where you gaze out the window to find the storm again.
Upset as you are due to being pulled from paradise, you can't help but be a bit glad.
Odd as it may seem, the storm is what led you to paradise in the first place, and you'll find yourself there again the next time it rains.
So rejoice! Cloudy skies may pervade your life today, but even the darkest of clouds and the heaviest of rains will eventually go away.

When I was a boy, a young vibrant boy,
I had a stuffed bear who brought me great joy.
Teddy was his name despite youthful creativity abound;
for a young boy like me, no more suitable name could be found.
His overalls blue denim, his button eyes black, and a warm comforting smile he certainly did not lack.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy around, gripping his hand tightly while his body hung limply towards the ground.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy along, his friendship made me feel confident, ambitious, and strong.
Everywhere I went I carried Teddy close by, our adventures spent under the sun and the calming blue sky.
During our time together, there was never a moment I had not smiled or laughed.
Truly Teddy was an artist, and entertainment his craft.
Time passed and times changed, but Teddy was still my friend.
However, something grew strange as my age continued to ascend.
And so it became, my loving friend's comfort I could no longer enjoy.
I let go of Teddy's hand, and I was no longer a boy.

Darling, the night is dark yet I can see you so clearly.
I swear it's the starlight in the eyes of the girl I hold so dearly.
It's just so unfair that I can't look away, your gaze has me under your spell.
How do you do it? I'd love to know how you do it so well.

The night has just begun and I've only started to woo, but it seems you've turned the tables round since I can't take my eyes off of you.

It must be some sort of witchcraft since I've never been so quick to fall.
Your voice is that of angels and I can't help but heed the call.
With every whisper my heart flutters and I'm the slave of your whims.
The room has an aroma of roses and the once bright light dims.

The night has halfway through and I'm at a loss of what to do, I'm enthralled by your visages as you can tell since I can't take my eyes off of you.

The time for dance is over, but the morning has yet to arrive.
And I'd like to take you home while we both feel so alive.
Your energy and your charms have taken their effect, I just can't resist.
Even if it take's till morning I promise one way or another you have to be kissed.

The night is almost over and surprised you came out of the blue, you've cursed me with love and now I can't take my eyes off of you.