Where the Arrow Points

An arrow shot across the sky.
Observers watch with keen-eyed stare,
Convinced the answer lay right there.

Pointing to the truth afar.
But eyes fixed on fleeting streak,
Mistook the signal that it seeks.

A moment's guide, a fleeting clue.
Not the truth, but a nudge,
Towards deeper truths, we might trudge.

In shadows and in light it danced,
The mystery it came to show,
Not the truth, but where to go.

Thus we gaze at guiding lights,
Confusing them for final sights.
But wisdom lies in what they hint,
Not the arrow, but where it's sent.