On the very edge of a busy road,
Lies a stranger with a bright face.

Holding onto his belief ,
His eyes brimmed with agony and grief.

He is a stranger from a land unknown,
In search of a living , withered and torn

His voice conceals fatigue and fear,
No one to speak with, no one to care.

He has left his tribe with a beacon of hope,
An ordinary Man, Neither a scholar nor a Pope.

The world doesn't offer sympathy for free,
He is now not the same he used to be