The Archer

even thru this as I see it the day
comes heart ache and happiness
and the idea that one is right
while the aero finds its way.

straight thru the heart while days stand still
wild horses run into the night
but still the blind see what they will
with blackened visions sealed with touch, scent and sound
a hand full is taken and thrown to the ground.

better they stand than hide and accept what has been given
things that have been stolen from their sight
for treasures and dreams the thoughts of many bleed
and leave memories on forests floors beneath gold and amber leafs.

the tranquil pain of crying eyes falls one tear at a time
with no direction to find its path no one will remember
the archer or how the aero found its way
into a thought so blind in a place so far away.


Godfather.



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