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Arrows

The Rain and Hail
Through Rock and Mist
Cuts the wind, and shears the fog
Like arrows the descend
upon the weak, tired, and pitiless
Without mercy they are, and armed they are
by foot and cleave
They carve out a craving
and a subtle blow
with an Axe in hand
And a spear that guides
Arrows
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September 22, 2012
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