Arrows Let Fly




When arrows fly they always point

At those that they will soon anoint

With red wine and its cleansing toll

Which pours whenceforth from uncorked hole


And when the wine has cleaned his eyes

The anointed one a vision spies


I see a field of forgotten Greeks

Surrounded by far off mountain peaks

I see brother Ulysses scheming there

And Daphne with her leaf-like hair

Achilles tells me, “Tis better to slave

Than rule for eternity in the grave”

And so I leave him and cross the plain

For council I might ascertain

A sign in cumulus, nimbus sky

The same revealed to Constantine’s eye

When formed, the sign reveals afar

The Shepherd King’s personal star

And the Blue Man’s hand descends from its veil

To whisk me to heaven by my lone ponytail

The Last Great Prophet now I meet

Who speaks softly in a voice most sweet

We converse for hours but do not walk

In a dialogue where I rarely talk

Until he asks to where I’m off

I say “To the highest mountain top”

And when I start on my journey

The prophet brings the mountain to me

At the peak, ‘neath a tree, sitting cross-legged

Is a wise man with a large bump on his head.

He says, “Embrace diversity

But accept universal unity

To the air, the sea, the Earth, the plants,

And the animals from the yak to the ant”


And then I see a blinding flash

And exhaling, I have peace at last


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