The Archer’s Lament (from The Attempters)

How swift the Arrow flies when fate is marked!
No Doom can intercept nor sightless Dark
Deter it from its tender course; while we,
Poor failures in our Tendencies
Are left to wonder how the perfect Shaft
Intended from its draw the perfect Line
And rent the Target at its epi-core.
And we, bewildered, fletching our Envy,
Aim our crooked Hopes at a stolen Heart.

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