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He tumbles for hundreds of miles,
In a trance and feeling no pain,
Crossing gravel, concrete and tiles,
In torrid heat and drenching rain.
No time for a haircut and shave,
He takes handouts along the way.
Cuts, bruises, road traffic he’ll brave -
It makes one want to kneel and pray.
You have to admire his goal,
For he vows he will never cease,
In his strange perpetual roll,
Until the whole world is at peace.
© Richard McCusker
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