Silver- Tipped Arrows

Silver tipped arrows,
Beautiful yet deadly;
Soaring through the world
Askance, directing attention
Yet wanting to be left alone.
The sun glinting off its tip,
The shaft red from the toil-
Of both the maker and her archer;
Burns and blemishes unseen
On those left behind, as
She is let loose.
Wonder filled verses she
Leaves behind, uttered both
In eloquence and in lack thereof.
Yet as she finds the way
Home, taking life or not-
That matter aside, never is
Ought enough she is in memory, for
The maker whittles another, better
And the world turns its head to marvel again.

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