Thy Chariot

O ye who on the bike doth roam
thy saddle hath become thy home
journeying in ways few haveth known

Cranks marking the most accurate time
whether on asphalt or in forests of pine
thou art one truly with Nature divine

Whether thee and thy chariot be young or old
together thou maketh a team noble and bold
thy freedom for any price would not be sold

Thy body and soul both stay fit
pushing beyond the desire to quit
looking back at having conquered it

Perhaps no medals have adorned thy neck
road rash and scars tell the story of a wreck
both of thee slid painfully across the deck

Yet after a break and a few replaced components
long suffering soreness and unpleasant moments
thou attackest again fearless and pushing owns it

Great is the victory if in it's only thy heart alone
shouting a cry of triumph, not a defeated moan
from a simple saddle thou have madest a throne