The Sword of Fate and Faith

In the stone awaits the Sword of Fate. I, the master crawling, On belly famished with weathered spine, My fork’ed tongue frothing in infidelity, Muttering murmurs of motive, The sins I sinned sinners would shutter/ Still, utterly desperate I seize the dagger, Death or Life must come! The scales leveled and my scales were lifted, I saw what once was and is and would become… In my hands I held the Sword of Faith. Alive-- It and I! In spite of countless times I turned my coat to hide, My chest a closet of bones and burdens. Convenience became cruel and I chose not to confide, A choking pride, washed down with wine and wallow, Hollowed rind where the hat of hope once hung, Now forged from the dust rung upon rung, A ladder undeserving! Where mortal man meets outstretched hand, In faith I will abide, in God I will confide!