There once resided a slave in a cell, Who often pondered his confined hell Always obeying what others asked of him, No goals his own merely trapped in a spell So, before sunrise when all were asleep, He stole away making barely a peep Resolving to find out what laws he must live by, Escaped in the night to stroll far from his keep
Moving at random the slave headed west, He stopped for a while at a farm to rest Met an old farmer feeding his livestock, Who offered an ear to the slave's strange quest The farmer knew his advice could not fail, To bestow success on this fellow's odd tale “Set reasonable goals, goals you know can be done,” Then returned to his work still sloshing his pail
Moving along the slave entered a city, He wandered through streets grimed and gritty Encountered a merchant yelling and selling, Who heard out the slave in a semblance of pity The merchant’s code had set him near, Heights of success almost without peer “Set high goals, but goals you think can be done,” Then swivelled away to trade his wares dear
The slave met many more interesting folk, Who granted advice on that which he spoke They all viewed success as one of two options, Yet neither seemed right; naught inside him awoke And as sunset approached at the end of the day, That vexatious question held him at bay “To achieve success, which goals should I strive for?” No answer appeared; it seemed he'd lost his way
In abject despair the slave climbed a knoll, To watch clouds drift by in their lazy stroll 'Till after four days something suddenly hit him, A scattered awareness now finally whole Released from his trance the king rose to go, And returned to his palace at last in the know The only goals that confer kingly success, Are castles in the sky that force you to grow
