The hiker I am a hiker in my own right,
Crossing bridges and climbing mountains of great heights.
Getting all bruised up and still giving a fight.
Having a good grip to preserve my life.

I have been wounded, shattered and punched,
Glimpse of visions, I can't catch… too fast
I fell twice, thrice. I can't count.
But I stood up. I'm a hiker.
Isn't that right?

The dew from heaven satisfy my thirst,
The wildness of nature makes my stomach burst,
The woven clouds shelter me as I sleep,
The breaking of dawn helps me time keep.

The silence of danger echoes in my head.
I sometimes believe I am dead.
Going north, going south. I need a lead.
Can you tell me the way or would you please.

My shoulders are weary,
My feet just can't carry.
I have spent my time in too much worry.
Is it worth it or am I just being foolish?

It sometimes seems unfair,
That I have to walk the plan you prepared;
Without me knowing the reasons behind;
Just be a faithful blind.

I am a hiker and a victim at the same time,
I crossed bridges and lose blood during my climb.
And when I come to rest for tomorrow I have to hike,
I still have this question, maybe it is time to ask.
Because I really can't keep myself to wonder and still wander a mile;
Can you hear me from down here?
And do you have a good sight?
Because you are just too high for me to reach through hike;
And I am just a spot in this limelight.
Forgive my asking but I really need a reply,
Can you see me from up there and do you hear my cry?  ¶ 8:30 AM