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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