A Wandr'er they called him, such paths did he tread,

forever his feet moving, but no place for his head.  

"My goal" he said was this, "to arrive safely at home", 

athough shrouded were his steps, and heavy were their toll. 

Mist cov'red ground beneath, and thorns there were in masse,

and if this weren't enough, a break shew'd in his path. 

Now two ways there were, a dilemma did he face,  

which way should he walk, for he could not stand in place.

Though he knew not why, he chose the path forlorn,

for though it was less traveled by, this choice was never mourned. 

Here the story comes to me, although I must admit it seems,

that I knoweth not which paths to tread, and evil fills my heart with dread.

Fear grips my heart fast, as I see the less travelled road,

but know that for all its pains, 'tis the one to me was showed.

In silvian darkness still evils lie, and wish from good my heart to pry,

despair and disdain utter their cries, confusing my mind with myriad lies.

Armed I must go into the night, ready to struggle for my very own life,

and so now this great battle begins, the mighty onslaught comes intense,

I fight wide eyed for life itself, striking swords like nothing hence.

Ev'ry day the path winds on, the battle's fought, our spirits moan,

but until light shines from Heaven's throne, may it be, His will be done.