A Blade
By Katie Wolfe
There is nothing so silent,
So deadly,
So swift.
Its sharpness yet awe surpasses all,
At the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.

The wielder's hand
Decides how swift
This beautiful weapon doth fly.
Quick wrists and reflexes bring you near,
Nearer to your foe's demise,
At the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.

A slender blade,
Or a broad, wide sword,
The swordsman will decide.
In the heart of every swordsman though,
A fire doth reside.
And so it kills,
With the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.

The user's hand,
The challenger's head,
Either prize may fall,
At the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.

Two blades meet,
Of finest steel,
Their beauty unsurpassed,
Yet the first man to falter here,
Knows he shall not last,
Past the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.

And yet ye shall dwell in shame and disgrace,
If once upon a lonely night,
You meet an unfortunate demise,
At the swift, deadly stroke of a blade.