The swords keep coming in twos and threes.
I kneel at the edge of strife wondering if
I should rise.
I know that if I do,
the daggers that clench these ragged limbs will
dare to pierce again a
radiant Heart.
If I should,
the knives that stab these wretched hands will
try to sever my
exquisite Spirit.
But I rise,
I walk,
and then I dance,
in ferocious pain,
in radiant glory,
with chains in my veins, and the
Sun freeing my wings.
