In moonlit silence, the blade lies still,
A breath away from flesh and will.
The lacquered hilt, black as sin,
Awaits the hand to begin.
Steel whispers in the dying light,
A dance with death, so cold, so bright.
The heart beats slow, as honor calls,
And crimson fate from the body falls.
Beneath the sun of a fading life,
The soul wrestles with its bitter strife.
In shame's dark shadow, no mercy dwells,
Only the steel, where silence tells.
A trembling hand, now steady with grief,
Seeks final judgment, the only relief.
Pierce deep, and carve the sin within,
For in this pain, the end doth begin.
The bowels uncoil, a river of red,
A warrior's spirit with honor is fed.
Eyes glass over, the breath grows thin,
And death creeps slow, cold as skin.
The second stands, with sword held high,
A silver flash to cleave the sky.
In a single stroke, the head takes flight,
A final grace, a severed night.
Thus ends the tale of a fallen name,
In silence now, devoid of shame.
The blade, the blood, the soul, set free-
In death, we find eternity.
YOU ARE READING
When Silence Wept
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
