Thursday, August 20, 2009

Poetry Thursday: Sword

I have sharpened my sword
With the maddened determination of a hermit
In the long, cold silence of winter

I have ground off rust
In the morning minutes before dawn
With my breath a cloud of finite warmth before me

I have burnished out those signature spots
Black warts of weakened steel
Banished for their weakness, their threatened failure

I have removed ridges, imperceptible
That could spell disaster in battle
There is nothing left but what is required

Oh yes, I have sharpened my sword
And I have no fear
The sword, like the man, is ready.

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