Beside the bleak and dusty road
The flowers are in bloom.
I stoop to inhale their fragrance fair,
Before I face my doom.
My guards are in a hurry;
They don’t let me stop for long.
With a violent shove I’m thrust,
Stumbling forward through the throng.
Twenty brawny soldiers lead
Me closer to my death.
I hear the sound of cheering;
I smell wine upon their breath.
Of a sudden I’m enveloped
By a murd’rous, hateful crowd.
They trample the lovely blossoms,
And their cries for blood are loud.
I see the majestic fighting ring,
My site of execution.
What a shame a work of beauty
Should furnish such confusion.
I’m stripped and cast into the arena,
Greeted by catcalls and jeers.
Ravenous lions are loosed in the ring;
The taunts are replaced by cheers.
Across the arena, I notice a flower,
Crushed by thousands of feet.
My terror fades to contentment;
Soon will my rest be sweet.
Soon to see my family,
Soon to meet my King,
I’m eager now, I cannot wait!
Come swiftly, death, to me.
