Need an armour so these arrows deflect,
or get blunted by the sharp iron grille.
These arrows nothing but misery reflect,
and need to burn them with a fiery will.
They cease not to shoot from the blurry past
for fate has a quiver full of these darts.
Let them not find their marks and shadows cast,
for they relish and eye those fragile hearts.
Forge an armour - break these shafts with metal
lest their jealous paws put a scratch on it.
It is time to arm and prove your mettle-
you have the wit and the skill to hone it.
So fear not that spear that threatens to pierce
for its flight may be swift but fright not fierce.
