Steel-clad death welcomes yang's metallic frame,
forceful dividing winds bridging toward wicked sky.
Battle standards proudly catching heavens shame,
lulling the heaviness of evil, drinking the rivers dry.
Yin however, transcends the duality at trivial end,
silent thought exploding existence into shaded beauty.
Folded metal, like mountainous valleys strongly blend,
choosing only ubiquitous violence to sever for duty.
Wisdom echoes from the distance, cutting their breath.
Watchful darkness bleeding beams of wondrous light,
masterpieces entwined that capture a perfect death.
Monarchs of sheathed blades, creators of purest might.
The legend continues, swimming upstream in the spring,
blazing with the sinking sunset, and when the birds sing.