the lost son of venus and mars
once a messenger of love
he finds himself grounded
trying to flex his broken wings
he walks barefoot on forest trail
bow in hand and empty quiver
strapped across his shoulder
hunger had set in days ago
his canteen containing but a few
drops of morning dew
determined to save himself
he calls upon the heavens
to pierce his ailing heart
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I love how the title works as part of the poem
Thank you, Björn.