Sep 2016
When the arrow strikes,
The heart breathes its last:
They will be one.
My legs are burning;
In cupped hands, the heart.
I am burning – the holder
Of the arrow
And I, will be one.
The heart breathes its last:
They will be one.
My legs are burning;
In cupped hands, the heart.
I am burning – the holder
Of the arrow
And I, will be one.
