Golden Arrow
A golden shaft ascends,
Piercing the veil of clouds,
With the warmth of the Sun,
Aiming for the heavens with celestial intent,
Its journey ordained by the ancients,
A path of light unfurled.
Feathers and quiver accompany,
Guiding it towards the mark of destiny,
The arrowhead, alight with purpose,
A beacon of hope in the quest for truth and clarity.
Within the forest’s clearing,
The Golden Arrow whispers its truth,
Revealing the secrets held deep within the heart,
A silent confidant to the mysteries of the soul.
The eagle, with its keen gaze, tracks the journey,
A golden arc painted against the canvas of the sky,
Carrying the weight of fate on its swift path,
A testament to the courage found in daring flight.
The ancient bowstring resonates with a hum,
As the golden arrow seeks out its quarry,
Finding equilibrium in the elegance of its flight,
A harmonious dance with the winds of destiny.
With the day’s last light,
The golden arrow dissolves into the twilight,
Leaving behind a silent vow fulfilled,
A promise kept in the hush of night’s embrace.
As stars emerge to bear witness,
The arrow’s tale weaves,
Into the fabric of the cosmos,
An eternal echo of its golden flight,
A story told in the hallowed halls of time.
And so it rests, the Golden Arrow,
In the quiet grove where legends dwell,
Its mission complete, its glory immortalized,
In the whispered tales of the forest’s keep.
