Archer

 

You bent the golden bow
into an empty circle,
pulled the arrow
of darkness back
to your eye.
Now hold the target
over your own breast
and pierce
the heart of the void.
Your shaft has no quarry.
It flies in all directions at once.
Aim well, warrior,
and bring down the Lord
of blue skies.
Draw your path into a sphere
and become the womb
of your intent, where all
is born without a purpose.
You Are the bow,
taught hollow curve
of possibility.
Rest here, between breaths,
where the victory
is already won
and the arrow releases itself.


Version of a poem in my book, 'The Fire of Darkness'