Dreams appear before his tired eyes, 
All filled with joy and plentiful delight, 
Running under soft and verdant skies, 
And always free from terrors of the night. 

Another step, 
He struggles to forget, 
Yet breaks into an icy sweat. 

Images of deep struggle appear, 
Of freedom dueling now with servitude, 
And here the first conception of fear, 
The world itself is his own to extrude. 

Another step, 
He knows his iron fate, 
Although he cannot concentrate. 

Now a life of passion and romance, 
Adrift without a plan or set intent, 
He would play in Cupid’s game of chance, 
Still armed with youth’s ambition yet unspent.

Another step, 
He is but does not see, 
Both jailor and his detainee. 

Longing for a comforting embrace, 
Despite expending endless dreary days, 
Parted from his lover’s shining face, 
To work toward employers’ hollow praise. 

Another step, 
The gibbet is in view, 
Its presence here is nothing new. 

Life’s variety has long faded, 
Still his joy remains illuminated, 
Children ensure he is not jaded, 
Perhaps he feels a little outdated. 

Another step, 
The cold fatality, 
Of volatile mortality.

For having lost his youthful vigor, 
Fallen into sloth and isolation, 
Yearning for his life’s ended rigor, 
He yet fears its coming abdication. 

Another step, 
Under those verdant skies, 
He closes his now tired eyes.