The Hunted

Always moving, never stopping,
Knowing death awaits the slow;
Obstacles emerge before us,
Most we do not even know.
Lake and river, sea and ocean,
We must travel in our flight;
Plain and forest, marsh and desert,
We cross in the dead of night.
Never resting, always running,
Running from the predator
It approaches with each footstep;
It is here, we are no more.