After this mortal storm
wanes
and ceases
I venture outside
     to pick up the pieces
The stars have been
wind-whipped
stirred into a frenzy
like a merry-go round
in a blender,
         shaken intensely
Yes, those stars up way beyond
whirled about
they cast their spell
they made me shout
Like a ship on high tide
I was thrown for a loop
tossed against
backwinds
and wrenched up
from the root
With an archer's practiced,
                     steady mark
You aimed and fired
piercing my dark
So now, after that fiery arrow
             hit true
I must pick up the pieces
From the heart that blew