“A Sagittarius is both a warrior and a poet.
They hold a firearm in one hand and a book in the other.
They encapsulate a relentless drive for freedom.
That’s why these centaurs are tyranny’s born slayers.”
Sometimes books down on the spine
flap out between fingers their wings
with churning spells of run-on lines
that speak of fates and lives and loves
in between the realms and covers
of the time-split everlasting night.
And head-on on the letters’ hoofs
and cloven feet a spirit rides and reads,
searching for the echoes and the clues
as the faint (or just as often clipped)
flame of the human element flickers
and flies through the flurry and whirl
of the zodiacal beasts who loop above
by Sagittarius’ bow as one’s folded wing.
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