Arrows surround us
Few notice them
Fewer are drawn

Fewer follow them
Until they realise
Arrows just arrows

Neither the target
Nor the flight
Home once again

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on August 24, 2019, in Poems and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. One to read over and over, like a koan…. and always coming home. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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