I see the Archer,
standing where she is,
his left hand on his bow softly laying in the air,
her finger feeling for the fletchings, smooth transition from quiver
to sky to bow.
In one motion he pulls back, locking knock to string.
I hear the Archer,
breathe in as she draws back, power ringing, gathering in her stance,
the bow breathes in too, as the string pulled, creaking...
the silence of his mind, the train screeching to a halt.
I see the Archer,
the destination of the arrow in her mind,
head tilted, nose pointing upward,
eyes reflecting the path and destination,
of the arrow that will fly, the soul that will soar.
I see her eyes olive green, hazel brown, shallow blue,
gazed towards the heavens.
I see the pupil reflecting,
the goal, path and destination,
unseen by the world around him.
Finger securing the shaft,
then releases, breath and arrow.
Heart, soul, body, mind follows through.
I hear the song of the arrow,
whistled through the air,
cutting through the fabric of the sky,
reaching a place undiscovered,
I hear the thump!
The arrow has hit its target,
I hear her soles step forward
to search for the arrow, her soul.
