A hunter in the woods
Looks lost, confused,
All the trees look the same,
The game ran away-
This is not his day for
Hunting-Just when he grabs
His hunting bow and knife
From his backpack…
The game appears from
The shadows of the trees.

He smiles, as if pleased,
That he was on the right trail
But, he forgot the bows!
Where are the bows?!
So close, yet so far away,
From the feast of wild deer
He thought he was going
To enjoy, this night-

Everybody told him he
Wasn’t right for hunting
One of God’s noblest creatures…
He chose the wrong profession,
They say, over and over again;
In fact, he had to borrow
The arrows from somebody else.

For the majority of his life,
Everyone looks down on him
For being who he is;

What’s wrong with being a hunter?!
What’s wrong with doing what he enjoys?!
So what if he loses his game,
He remains who he is,
He is not ashamed of his failure.

One day, he will be known
As the greatest hunter of all time-
It hasn’t happened yet,
But, Someday, it will.
He smiles again, because he
Knows he has to be patient.