Air, water and stone
An archer
searches
for
an
arc of ethos
in his chamois
quivers.
There,
swept
by swollen rivers,
hes' kept
fresh
eros
feathered
rainbows,
crystal lodestone
tipped.
He finds
moist
egos
nursed
on the sharp pathos
amidst
the arrows
where,
in their blades,
they've slept.
The matter
of self alone.
searches
for
an
arc of ethos
in his chamois
quivers.
There,
swept
by swollen rivers,
hes' kept
fresh
eros
feathered
rainbows,
crystal lodestone
tipped.
He finds
moist
egos
nursed
on the sharp pathos
amidst
the arrows
where,
in their blades,
they've slept.
The matter
of self alone.
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