A Target

A Target The hand was gentle with much care and precision, I was flying through the air On a resolute trajectory With much direction, A crisp azure sky A whisper only birds could hear, Higher and higher, With my flat surfaces— Shimmering as I project ever upward With direction, momentum and determination CRACK! And with speed and incomparable unfaltering determination of its own— It strikes and the impact shatters me; Bits and dull dust at my center blow and disintegrate Beautiful shining fragments begin to feel the gravitational forces beckon In a new direction My pieces plummet toward the earth from where they land and scintillate Just a bit, Then begin to settle as they rest And grow dull.