the knife

set the gripping trap
clutch the pelt above your head in triumph
catch the dripping blood in your hand
and wipe it on your shirt
symbolize the victory and embrace the triumph
for you will be raised as well
and your blood will be caught and kept
to be triumphed


///

the knife

a soldier weaves through tall grass and thorned flowers
in his haste he leaves behind his trusted knife of brave combat
the knife lay still, succumbed in grassy knoll and rosy thicket
staring up at many red roses, the knife, saw the sun turn the flowers pink
as its power drained even color

//

the tallest rose spoke

"why, a dark rugged blade as yourself
dare not dampen our lustrous beauty
keep aware of your good wealth
and show us your gratuity "


the knife stared up and replied

"i have come from far, sworn to protect
need for beauty, i have not
if a rugged blade i do reflect
perhaps i can be taught,
my world consists of blood and vigor
seldom thoughts of love
if only i mustered a trigger
i'd kill the enemy above"

the rose replied

"have you not began to trouble your mind
your setting soul is at halt
for you refuse to see our lines
only you will be at fault,

to protect, there is no need ,
for we bathe in the lords light
if the foreign do not give heed
our keen thorns will spike "

the knife;

"the light of lord blinds thee eyes
for you cannot truly believe
that my longer and trusted scythe
fall short to your thorny leaf?"

the rose ;

"predict you must, an enemies mind
in war , you must relieve yourself of strife
by reaching for a rose thats kind
instead of a common soldiers knife "


k