When has one lost what once was true,
One will know the way to lose,
In which all odds that one assumes,
Imply the one odd within you,

Within one shot there’s no more chance,
Although one shot can take all ten,
If chiseled right it takes the pin,
The mind should set to lose nor win,

The time is set for reigns to fall,
Phithets will soar and shoot to mark,
All though omega shot it hard,
A mega shot target was scored,

The moral for this stanza is,
If you haste slow with controlled swing,
The more likely you pack a sting,
Regret the one who’s rushing in….

It glided through the air
just cloaking the sun's glare
to the heavens it aimed
but by gravity it was tamed

down it dashed
swooping down to crash
on the unsuspecting its fate
for man's reaction was too late

the soft flesh it would pierce
to show stains of dark red
the screams were fierce
a man would be dead

and so many more followed
so that the enemy ranks would be hollowed
but what the arrow did
was only what the laws of nature would permit

and soon its job was done
for lead would take its place
propelled from the gun