That black spot, the one you should hit,
There, at the target’s middle,
Yes, this one —
The one that must get pierced by the arrow!
This one you miss time after time.
You are close, closer, never
And then you kneel, gather the arrows
And try again.
This black spot drives you crazy,
Until you realize:
The place where the arrow stuck, quivering —
It too is center.