The only truth is the one I choose,
and choose,
                       and choose, then
what of these arrows
dipped in an elixir
                of delusion,
                                 and illusion.

Yes, a shaft may go awry,
but the archer always makes his mark
                in the blink of a
                                 bulls eye.

We’ll sooner slowly die from bleeding
than from the poison on the arrows tip;
listen for the bow of truth
               in the sound
                                 of the arrows slip.

The universal adhesive
for pairs who seek to be as one,
is in whether each can endure being two,
I as one, you as one
                I choose, you choose,
                                  we’re chosen.