When awaken you do not feel it often But once you enter the darkness You might face this thing

I’m chosen before the arrow ever departs, Named in the mind long before the shot starts. I wait without moving, yet tension is charged, Every miss circles me, every hit leaves me scarred. I give purpose to aim and meaning to mark it. What stands still, yet decides who’s clever or marks it?

What has six faces, but does not wear makeup, has twenty-one eyes, but cannot see?

What runs around the whole yard without moving?

I come in every form you name, yet I am nothing you can hold. I shape the world with unspoken power, and vanish the moment you notice me. Some seek me in loud engines, others in quiet inks. When I stand alone, I mirror your thoughts.