The centaur driven by impulse
Maiden’s discipline must avulse
Opposing signs that can’t appulse
yet their hearts pulse, yet their hearts pulse.

The archer’s in her open field
And yet she must take up her shield
Smote by love’s mace that their fates wield
Which one will yield, which one will yield?

His fire burns on horizon’s edge
Her waters flow through bee and sedge
Despite the years’ deep driven wedge
Their hearts are pledged, their hearts are pledged.

I wrote this poem in the form of a monotetra.