Beyond the Quivers Shadows

Held firmly in the hand of man
with death upon his mind
sleek quills glistening in moonlights rays
spiked out like pastures thistles bristle.

Threaded stalks are bound tightly round
a sprig of spindling ash, whose tip is anointed
with a heart seeking point
and in its lusting for a kill will fly.

From heart to hand the will of man
into the quill-balanced arrow thoughts do flow
of line, distance, and steadiness in stand
and guiding this arrow deep into the heart of foe.

Deep in forest shadows hide hideous forms of hate
draped in a ravens caw as sight and aim is readied
and song of an arrows flight to wind is taken
in a whispered moment a beating heart is bloodied.

Now the hand of man whose will did wrought
the end of one's flower of life this night
again firmly grips the darkened glistening quills
and pulls arrow from the heart of soul he's taken.