Sword, the Anger of Truth
The sword,
buried deep in its' scabbard,
tempered by fire,
strength it holds,
I desire
Metal fashioned by human hands,
skill from distant lands.
Beauty of proportion and line,
weapon so fine
For the sword in its' scabbard,
is like the truth hidden,
brought out in anger,
to do its' bidding
Flash of steel
I turn and wheel
arcing round,
truth be found
For to be sheathed,
nobody can hurt,
no anger unleashed,
no falldown, in dirt
But truth must come out willingly,
now and then,
rasp of steel,but when?
The sword always finds home,
piecing deep,
this sharp steel i hone
makes truth weep
blood and bone
The truth used as a weapon of war,
pulled out of its' hiding place.
These are the things I saw.
It takes no prisoners,only deaths' face,
running down the blade
This truth of metal,
is in fine fettle,
for the sword out of its' hiding place,
with death you must face
swish of air,
into battle you must wade,
heart beginning to tear,
carry the truth blade
Flash of steel,I turn and wheel,
arcing round,
truth be found
For the truth
can be used in rage,
to wound and maim.
No wisdom of sage,
to guide whence it came
Flame bright steel,you must deal
with the things you feel,
for arcing round
truth can be found
Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2007
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