Sun kissed leather, adorned in golden spangles, glistens in
The effulgent beams of the marvelous sun.
The sweet pungent aromas of the freshly crisped hay and
Shimmering timber, lingers in the air like a nauseating reminder.

For on that iron clad steed of greatness, glory and grandiosity
Lies my ataraxia at the end of every wretched day.
Security and passivity that I so desperately long for,
Sits so close, yet so far away.

Hanging right in front of me, deceiving me every time,
As something that is a conceivable ambition.
For just as I am on the brink of insanity I feel my steed
Of nobility nuzzle my sad barren face.

Saying unto me, thou who art capable of clambering
The perilous mountains of oppression and misfortune
Enter the realm of possibilities and attainment and arrive
At the peak.

Once awake I breathe in aromatic air of the fresh fields,
Barns, arena, coming to realize that there will come a
Time when I can have what I have always yearned for.