Folly maybe, but fun.
Projecting back in time,
To the days of great swordsmen.
Lining the banks of the river,
To see the dual to come.
Good versus evil,
Was as ever challenged here,
Repressing the old way of warfare.
Swords drawn forcefully now,
And hearts beating faster.
Surveying the enemy,
Feeling his eyes moving furtively,
Seeking an advantage, a flaw.
The first lunge came now,
Pushed back with shining steel.
A fury of sparks,
Rang from the heavy weapons,
As the tirade became hopeless.
I saw my opponent left open,
And thrust forward quickly.
A horrible wail,
The pain of cold steel now,
Bringing the pointless finale,
To the dual of wits,
And my own downfall.
Heroes lost forever,
As saints died in pain.
And my own desires perished,
To see this tradgedy repeated,
Another drop of blood shed.
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