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 |    13.3k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
| Shooting Arrows In The Dark I spend all day collecting targets -- prey for my instinctive arrows, honed but hollow. I toil, spy from the backdrop -- camouflage and build a dream of capture before sunset. When distracted, too late, dark shrouds cloak my head. In my little hide away, ears keen, nose clean, I think -- check traps, wind my way through this scene, and soon after go clumsily through thick woods -- pitched dark, black before I'm lost. Shooting arrows in the dark, in this theater, purposed, resilient, adds no kill -- maims a toe or two, blisters the adjoining fingers to a savage construct, weaponized mind -- aiming to become more practiced when real game comes. 7.6.21 7.8.21 edit |
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