Without exact expectations, which will kick you in the pants every time, the arrow is released in it's correct directional path. Still on target, going the right way, forward. My arms limp by my side. Tired from aiming for so long but blissfully achy. She kissed me goodbye and got out of the car just like she knew what she was doing. Of course, she does know what she is doing, she has been doing it for 8 years now. Now I begin walking to find where the long arcing arrow lands. Make necessary correctional coordinate changes and once again raise my bow, one finger above, three fingers below and aim. This time without the monotony of lengthy anticipation.
The Archer's Prayer
In powerful prayer
And wing your wishes
On the air
Towards
The tantalising ten,
Again, again,
Again, again!
O, bend the bow
In praise of gold
And tens and tens
And tens untold -
Towards that blessed
Heaven's Gate,
That lies within
The blood-red eight.
And when the day
Is shot and done
And shadows
Mark the setting sun,
Then pray
That days will come again
When shafts are shadows
In the ten.
- David Hulme
No comments:
Post a Comment