Para/Poem Challenge "Open"

Shades are drawn
         against the world outside.
The decubitis of agedness,
under fluourescent light,
         finds nothing left to hide
in the winking shadows
         of forgetfulness.

See how this once virile man
         has surrendered
his dégagé ideals
         of long ago.
The trials of many years
         have rendered
his dreams defunct
         behind his weathered brow.

What find we there
         in this decrepit state?
Blinking back sensibilities
         at the taste of another's fate...
Taking cold solace
         in a "life well-lived"?
Or find we there
in deific deference
         for the soul suspended beneath?