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)
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