a hunter's trance

a hunter's trance

i bow to thee

my arrow hot

my mouth a pot

my string free

i sing to thy spirit

i tremble gently

i keep steady

my finger pointed

we circle the fire

four feet

two feet

one in the other

sun becomes moon

moon becomes sun 

the day's begun

the nights loom

i cover thy track

to heaven

thy cover my back

on earth

my primal scream

a call to life

thy dying dream

my vision at night

upon the caves

my mind agrees

we find degrees

in shallow graves

we are the pigment

they see in art

a bleeding heart 

a breathing rock

i bow to thee

spirit of the eland

arrow in hand

be one with me

as tones we slide

on bated breath

we beat a ride

cross length and depth

free in boundedness 

the vibrating string unties

not restrain when breaking

into sacred cavities

i echo the arrow

sacred in flight

i flexed my bow

and pulled it tight

like a bee sting 

i loose my head

break at the neck

my ring of bone

They met sometime in the future, on a dry, hot and sunny day. Their paths met in the shade of a quiver tree.

He, with his umbrella; the other with a broken soul.

When asked about the brokenness, he mentioned a bow, the bow with a broken string.

"I cannot understand the plight of this dear wretched soul... Really? A bow; a broken string; a broken man...", he thought to himself.

He drew his attention to his umbrella, and slowly opened it up. He poked holes through the delicate parchment of the canopy with his index. He slowly folded it back up, and broke the bambo tube and ribs across his knee, and thought to himself.

The other, looking up from the broken mess of an umbrella, into his eyes, said: "It is people who broke the string for me."

He didn't lift his mind off the broken umbrella, as they continued to sit in silence, under the canopy of the Quiver.