coup de grace

The joyful scar…

There is something about a sword,
Tween the thrust and cut.
That makes even a thief a lord,
Only a blade you can trust no matter what,

In the hand the feel of steel.
Upon command it’s heart in field,
Accept the vows as thou kneel,
And by it’s wounds you’re healed,
For it is both weapon and shield,
And it’s kiss is doom sealed.

For it’s honor you pledge,
Deeper promises than to any lover,
For you keep it’s keen edge,
As it flies you discover,
The punishment of it’s birth sledge,
Felt by ghosts that above you hover

That to it, war is just.
And to it, you’re it’s master.
And to it, you hold your trust,
Fail it, brings only disaster,
And to it tween cut and thrust,
the riposte was even faster,