An Arrow

Feeling moody —
I’m as volatile as an arrow thing…
It flies higher and higher,
but finally drops to the ground:
I’m unable to fly
if my love
doesn’t lend me the wings —
once they’re taken away,
I feel void
and for ever earthbound!
Look, my arrow’s properly feathered —
like Juno’s bird...
It is slender and strong
and sharp-edged —
whizzing fast through the air.
…Yet all shimmering finery
failed
to keep it sky-borne:
here it is, lying still —
having broken its flight
as if brutally slain.