The boy walks

He needs to keep on walking

Because he walks on the treadmill made of time

The boy may stand still, but the treadmill keeps on rolling

Because the treadmill stops for no man, nor any boy

The boy walks

Now crippled with less possession to his own hearts

Because somehow it is no longer belong to him

The boy walks

Now completely at mercy

I don’t have anything, cried the boy, I could torned away anytime any moment, he added

Beyond him but ridiculously close to him, The Maker saw

The Maker always witness

The Maker always hear

The Maker knew the boy barely walked The Path

The boy had so much to prove, the boy had so many to redeem

But fear not, deemed The Maker

You are getting there.