The Mark

You are the mark!
Not some, else standard set.
It’s you we’re to aim for,
Not a task to be met.
As arrows you formed us,
Your quiver to fill,
Then released from your bow
Manoeuvred with skill.

It’s the breath of you carrying
With lift, dip and curve;
The darts gliding with purpose
T’ward the one whom they serve.
Fletching in place,
To spin and to stay;
Head of the arrow,
Formed and fit for each play.

Initial design and form, ne’er a change,
On the journey to bow,
Fit for this one arranged.
Fletching and head,
Both with end-goal in mind,
Each one’s journey-story
Determines each one in kind.

Form us and frame us,
The journey, you know.
The mark is your presence,
We’re ready to go.
Breath of life,
When we drop, lift us to soar
Till etern’ly embedded
Deep in your core.


3 thoughts on “The Mark

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