The Arrow

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The world.

Submitted: October 11, 2016

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Submitted: October 11, 2016

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An arrow

Fletched by the Gods themselves

It flies swiftly and silently through the cosmos

Towards its ill-fated target

And we are all of us its master.

 

A great conscious collective 

Grasps blindly at this arrow

Hoping to stop it before annihilation

But its hands phase through unaltered.

 

Simultaneous

The arrow permeates all spaces,

Traverses all directions

Struck its target eons ago

But still has yet to strike

 

In the days long dead

Where the cosmos are cold and empty

Let it be known by all who are lost

That this arrow,

Which was not thought to exist,

Could not exist,

Is the only thing that does. 


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