The Archer

He stood still , his muscles tense.
Breathing shallow , betraying no emotions far.

Ahead lay his goal to reach.
Exalted Art that is not for all to seek.
Brave Hearts for a sport of Kings.
He must beat the best to conquer all.

Gaze held fast upon the target,
He solemnly draws aim on that razor's edje.

His being shudders in abrupt release
As the arrow departs from the quivering bow.
Living and cutting the cumbersome wind.
Majestic and lightning in it's speed.

The Archer pained in excruciating calm,
Smiles enraptured at the vision of victory's mark.