"Across the river" | 13

On the other shore of time   across the river
abides what is or was   or yet might be
whatever the number of arrows you've got in your quiver
if you shoot for years & days   eventually

at length   you'll hold in your hand   the last-most arrow
you'll raise it   just like the others   tight to the string
if you feel   a certain presentiment   deep in your marrow
about moving targets   or the fate   of a king

all the olden tales are anyway   little devices
little analog clocks   that our digital world has forgotten
there are still a few books   that mention the old paradises
& the hells of course   & who by whom were begotten

but when the last arrow   has passed across to the land
the tale of time will reach   its timeless end