A shadow path engulfed by cold darkness;
The path, torturous and cruel, extends on forever,
Never to end until the light shines within,
Like the immortal over-burning sun.

Suspicion with each dreaded step;
The path, never growing older,
But, the time, approaching an end,
Like the sands of an hourglass—of a lifetime.

Tales of a dead man, abandoned to die;
His dark secrets whisper in the night breeze;
He continues to walk in his nightmare,
Driven by the lust for hope,
To live within the glory of heaven,
Like the grieving sinners of hell.

This man, broken and beaten, suffers upon the path,
Bound eternally by chains from hell,
While walking weak in agony,
Like a crippled man with an ancient cane.

Contained destruction within his mind;
Untainted wisdom of his meltdown;
The man's time, approaching an end,
Like the words of this poem—soon to wither away.

A shadow path engulfed by cold darkness,
Like the abandoned dead man.

The path, torturous and cruel, extends on forever,
Like the dark secrets of the dead man.

Never to end until the light shines within,
Like the immortal over-burning sun.