the claymore

I banish my sword
impregnated rust dulls
inscription fades…
the jewels that blossomed the hilt
now, the glitter sleeps.
many are the battles a claymore speaks.

Truth in heritage
a stock brewed
careful attention
the annealing, the tempering
the magnitude of conception
the forging
formatting life
the strength….
durability and retention

But alas,
let not, the temper fade,
for death becomes the blade.