| Him Part Six (cont.) But now, as for the rider; He had long, wavy, blonde hair. I say, as for the fighter; With blue eyes, He held His stare. A stare that showed He had nothing to hide. The strap of the gold quiver Was around chest and shoulder. The arm that held the sliver, Strong, could never be golder. Skin golder than that of a lion's pride. As He lifted the sliver Steadily to shoulder height, He then pulled from the quiver Arrow so heavenly light. He then placed the arrow onto the string. The beast, still, had failed to see Rider and horse to his left; He was staring straight at me And missed the heavenly cleft, And horse, rider, sword, arrow, bow and string. He held the sliver steady; He pulled, and He bent His bow, And He had made it ready. But He will not kill, I know. "I am just and fair," is what He had said. Just then He released the string. The arrow flew to the beast. It hit the ground with a ring-- Had not killed in the least. With it in the ground, the beast had not bled. The arrow was true to aim. It had done it's purpose well. The rider meant not to mame But serve as a warning yell. The beast was given the chance to back down. The silver rod had landed Just to the left of the beast. Shot by the skillful-handed With all the greatest of ease. The beast did start then turned it's head around. It looked at the rod with hate, Turned to see from whom it came, Stared directly at his fate, Then, running towards me, he came. I looked to see what the rider would do. He took from golden quiver The second arrow of three. He slowly raised the sliver As the beast was near on me. No fear, for once again the mark was true. |