Somewhere between twang and thump
During the time perceived between taking the shot and impact
A split second, enough for a single intake of breath
While the bow string sings for the departed arrow
There is a period of peace and calm
Mind still and thoughtless
A fleeting moment in time
Shortly replaced by reaction
I am the one responsible for my shot
My arrow flies by my skill and dedication
My strength projected, Sent with sweet song
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