Football fans, ball in sky, blue in blue, comet style, net ahead, goal target met, years of practice, nuff said.
Target of concentric ring, calling out in woodland time, lullaby beneath branches strong, dappled in first light - welcome the arrow that comes to you as that of eros and his protective pride.
Mist the target in thickest fog, rock the branches in howling storm and yet my arrow stays true to heart, for I am the huntress of legend. I bring the end to days of ledger, an end to owing and owed, an end to to bowing and bowed. I send word from the world beyond, I deliver the letter that brings real truth, that which renders equality both easy and obvious to all. And when the parchment touches skin, when it is absorbed into the blood, when the vision clears, you will see as I do, for there is no mist for me; neither is there wind, for this miss there is but victory.
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