thirteen arrows are in the quill
breath is the bow that aims at the sun
unleash the mind from its attachments
as you tighten your grip upon reality
knowing for certain in your heart
that it will eventually all slip away
as water inevitably pours forth
from between clasped hands
nevertheless you pull
the thread of the sound current
until it’s absolute tension
reveals its readiness to play the song
of the silent passing of time
the arrow’s path is already
written in the sky