Perfectionist nomads

 the arrow in the bow out of balance
the inside river not big enough to wash the clothes
the guard dog's bark too overpowering
the intensity and proportion of it all out of place

The cave like structures full of trinkets and crafts
yet some heavy orthodox lifestyle rules over us
The overpowering light of the day
and the cool darkness under our rocky shelters

ambition is all about aim
a keen eye for a good target
The projectile is heavy and cumbersone
weighing down the bow 

Soon we will have to move
 the moon of migration
bites the back of our nomadic legs
 scripture etched in seasons