The Cyclist | AkinMoré
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The Cyclist

By Ridwan Adelaja

I am a cyclist
Riding onward, passing
Quickly; like a child
Changing phase with time.
I am a cyclist,
Traveler along a path
To a place I cannot tell;
All masked by the coming
Morrow, forging ahead
Like a milipede.
I am a cyclist
Caught in the breeze of
distractions -standing, head in air,
Struggling to focus now and then.
I am a cyclist,
Hunter-man on the
Pedal, in the wood of the world,
All-self -hunting for happiness.
I am a cyclist
Left to wander on the street
Like a bird without a nest,
Camping on different trees
Like refugees of war-ing lands.
I am a cyclist
Pushed out by life
To a forlorn lane; forced through the
Tunnel of troubles, high-low-high
Going to find rest in the
Threshold of love.
I am a cyclist,
A passer-by along
Life: onward, riding fast and
Slow in the convoy of faith.
…a cyclist, just passing on
Until the cable

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