Amidst all the lilies

When I walked into that garden.
Amidst all the lilies,
Stood a bright, red rose.
And I was captivated.

Everytime I walked past her,
I stared at the way the bees buzzed around her.

Everytime I walked past her,
I stopped to admire her beautiful petals
Red and gold, glistening in the sun.
But every time I held her in my hands
I was left bleeding from her thorns

Sometimes I wonder if I was a fool,
Ignoring those thorns I so clearly saw,
Just to see those petals glisten in that way again.
But I always come back the same way,
Disillusioned by the beauty of us,
Alone with cuts in my hands

I guess I am a fool.
Time and time again I come to pick you up,
But every time I come back,
My hands heal a little faster,
My skin grows a little thicker,
And after every trip,
I get a little closer,
To never coming back.

Ready. Fire. Aim.

I close my eyes, pull back my arrow and aim.

Even though there are targets all around me, I have no bullseye.

I’ll keep aiming, this will end in a perfect game.

Maybe shooting the easiest target won’t satisfy.

Maybe I should wait for a sign.

Maybe I should wait for god to acknowledge my aim.
Same bows, same arrows, hundreds of targets, I’m still just the same.

I can tell you about my precision, but in fact I have no vision.
No clue, no marker, no signal to trigger a split decision.

The more I pull back, the more my fingers bleed.

There are hundreds of targets, my vision is clouded, I don’t know how to proceed

Then I remember, back when I trained with only one target.
I had hundreds of arrows, I could adjust my aim if I missed.

I open my eyes, pull back my arrow and shoot.

Now, there’s no time to see if my aim was absolute.

As I released, the bow string resonated with a sound of familiarity.

Ready. Fire. Aim.

Finally I can breathe, action brings my clarity.