Along pathwalks washed with God's tears, you walk You move with confidence and grace Your stride boasts of your strength Your quiver is full, your bow is taunt With purpose you move What do you seek? What manner of beast do you hunt? Do I dare ask? And in the shadows I move. The prey hunting the predator.
(Image taken from http://www.manchesteronline.co.uk/ewm/ic2/71.html)