We stand face to face,
a bow and arrow in front of us.
I pick up the bow, you the arrow.
My hand is firm on its body,
skeptic, you load and pull the strings.
The target, faces the sharp metal tip.
We both lean back,
locking each other in a dark symphony
of faith and trust.
One must fall, inevitably,
and so would the other.
I stood my ground longer,
unfortunately.