My Quiver Is Full

Fire three arrows
Each penetrating one mark
Heads left unadorned

The outer two morph
Helixing around the third
With snake like purpose

The third a beacon
A flagstaff planted firmly
Held by the healer

On this mountaintop
The call is left unheeded
The timing's not right

From peak to valley
He etches words and pathways
Without conscious thought

He will not heal one
He gathers an army
To heal everyone

In this way they strike
And seep in strategizing
So none will be lost

Two and one are sent
Once triplets, now paired and held
He aims his last shot

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