Rejection
When an archer flings at you an arrow fashioned from the thorny stem of rejection, his aim need not be true .
Even being sent without precision,
like water running into a funnel,
it will find its mark.
Though his arrow is not fatal,
its ridged spines will scar the hearts foundation,
that supports the temple of self esteem.
As the arrow's talons lacerate the inner walls of the cathedral within this house of houses,
sighs of pain and the shaking of its unsteady structure,
can be heard echoing in the most sensitive chambers of the soul.
And the only medicine, is faith.
And the only council, is reason.
And the carpenter of self trust,
will repair the damage of your tempest.
And you will then know that the archer only rejected his own
ability to love,
when he raised his bow.
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Diana...
And the only council, is reason."
excellent poem ...