A ribbon of riders before me I see sinewy threads between deep green trees translucent rays of morning sun stand out the jerseys the riders have on
Oh I long to catch the moment for in my mind I’ll always foment the sight of silent riders weaving solemn in their thoughts of leaving
Before unknown and now connected each others moves are still reflected in the images that remain within each one I pray the ride is never done
Chris Cannon, July '98
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