Arrows Let Fly

When arrows fly they always point
At those that they will soon anoint
With red wine and its cleansing toll
Which pours whenceforth from uncorked hole

And when the wine has cleaned his eyes
The anointed one a vision spies

I see a field of forgotten Greeks
Surrounded by far off mountain peaks
I see brother Ulysses scheming there
And Daphne with her leaf-like hair
Achilles tells me, “Tis better to slave
Than rule for eternity in the grave”
And so I leave him and cross the plain
For council I might ascertain
A sign in cumulus, nimbus sky
The same revealed to Constantine’s eye
When formed, the sign reveals afar
The Shepherd King’s personal star
And the Blue Man’s hand descends from its veil
To whisk me to heaven by my lone ponytail
The Last Great Prophet now I meet
Who speaks softly in a voice most sweet
We converse for hours but do not walk
In a dialogue where I rarely talk
Until he asks to where I’m off
I say “To the highest mountain top”
And when I start on my journey
The prophet brings the mountain to me
At the peak, ‘neath a tree, sitting cross-legged
Is a wise man with a large bump on his head.
He says, “Embrace diversity
But accept universal unity
To the air, the sea, the Earth, the plants,
And the animals from the yak to the ant”

And then I see a blinding flash
And exhaling, I have peace at last