The Arrow that flies by day. For even the blind can see it.
A White-Golden head glittering in the sun, Its materials extracted from an unseen legendary mountain.
Its Craftsman, a greedy Dwarf Journeyman. Whose eyes lead him into ******* but was freed by The Bowman.
Indebted to Him forever. An Oath of Blood he spoke for all knows words that are uttered into this world is tattooed, recorded, and time-stamped on the soul's forehead.
Nearby, a stranger asked me “What of the sound?”
"Momentary hairline fractures (lighting) are swiftly seen galloping across the blue canvas. What sounds do you hear thereafter?"
The stranger responded “Thunder?” "Exactly! It dares not, never to return back, driven with a high parade to fulfill its Masters will.
“Who is the Bowman? Is He Friend or Foe?” a mother requesting the answer while tucking her children near under her shadow.
"Women, this is how false rumors, propaganda, and evil seeds are planted inside the soul. 'Take each saying with a grain of salt', less your mind be warped and scalped to their liking, creating a false image of a person in the public square. Remember, mankind's heart is divided into four chambers.

Romance, Hate
Justice, Deception

Seek for yourself fine women, for 'Beauty is in the mind of the Beholder.' But if its a Cup of Water that contains knowledge that you seek? The Bowman knows the world is not painted in black and white. He watches carefully and is not quick to pass judgment, the Arrow that flies by day is destined for the Deceiver.
-GhostMoon Poet-