Warrior’s Song

May 27, 2005

Rush of wind batters my hair

as I spin, swinging free

and placing my arced strike with care

wood with might of stone flies with me

the grain of a fine staff

the steel of a great blade

will always be my other half

each a creation for which I was made

gold and kingdoms, jewels and silver

nothing compares to that which I wield

a masterpiece to make an artist quiver

great was the gift given when warriors once kneeled.

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