A Quarter of a Century Realisation

Sometimes it always seems like:

But it is actually:

There are so many different phases in life that we begin to make sense out of a few things we could not before. In some instances, no sense can be made out of anything, while logic seems to be the only end point in others.

On 25 on 25, I have come to realize the one thing: triumphant poverty, is indeed grace.

Can it get more cryptic than that?