Pray to the mightiest weapon

I watch you standing
in a shack’s lone corner,
a rusty sword
of years untold.

Your edge now dull,
I can’t stop thinking,
your shape’s a mess.
We are undone.

They say that once
Your gracious form,
the skies would split.
The heavens would draw.

Do you now weep
in silent sobs?
In glorious pasts
your mind is lost?

A relic old,
the mightiest maybe,
in shadows they whisper,
you broke yourself.

A gun’s death point
can you now fight?
Gunpowder’s blast
can you survive?

In a shack’s lone corner
you crouch and hide.
Countless scholars
they plea and cry.

Desperate prayers
do you acknowledge?
Do they remind you
why you were born?

I know you search
for world’s best smiths,
you play with others
just hide and seek.

But are they gone?
Artists of old,
hammer and fire
to reforge your soul?

I know explorers
have reached a hut.
They thought it empty,
they passed it by…

I know others
have reached you too.
An imposing tower.
A bolted door.

Just give them hope.
Just give them reason.
Just float and charge.
Just break the shackles.

Just bask in light.
Just show your might.
Just cower explosives.
Oh Word just shine…