124. Jail-Break

A little on, a little off, roads ahead a li’l rough,

some mounds of gold, some dusty puffs,

blowing unchallenged winds corrupt; goodness abrupt,

standing consigned to own hell enough

 

Threads silent weaving quiet-a-thought,

a gentle waft of pleasance wrought,

a mystique in twilight foggy caught,

freedom from this darkness urgent sought

 

Moments circumspect, in decision bitter wept,

to tunnel out an escape, through the gilded halls crept,

disentangle from shackles, long on it’d kept,

into an unknown like a spire of smoke out it swept

 

Quizzical, simple an exterior apparent,

guarded gazes sharp wily redolent,

mercilessness meant on the newly arrived opponent,

smiled quiet disguising fear, to further eventless advent

 

In a maze of craft, caught, pondered fast,

to return if to the golden cage of past,

or should to challenge this mirage looming vast,

scales towards truth bitter tilt,

devoted onwards on the path hard correct, marched

 

Journey timeless through time to complete,

convinced to demons of own hell to defeat,

errors and good turns oft do repeat,

to own kingdom gold, created from travails of hard heat

 

Lie O Weary traveller, these pastures green thee welcome greet

 

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