Oh Mighty Sword!
Forged of
golden
thread
molded from
the copper
wings
of the
Phoenix
that
melts into
ash
simmering and
cooling into
long
sharp
embers. Your
grip
no bigger than
the foot
of a
mouse
clutching with
anticipation
of a Lilliputian
bloodshed. Your
pommel
mimicking an
oculus
vacant
subaqueous
like a
crater
imprinted by the
thumb
of
God
allowing only
selective
beautiful
threads
of
ideas cont.
to
pass through
with dedicated
quagmire. Your
prick
draws forth
red
water
the size
of a
dew drop
left on
the petal
of a
rose
my pointer finger
a wounded
soldier
yet a
tear
still
drips from
my eye
like a
leaky
faucet. Your
blade
creates this
art,
parrying back
and forth
slashing in
and out
thrusting a
beautiful
history
that
extends past
seams
and
stitches.
Immortalized by the
hands
that
joust
elegantly.
PHOTOGRAPH BY RACHEL KISER