He wields it like a broadsword, and with a pompous pride. He assumes he has a moral right to have it by his side. He worships all it stands for, a simple devotee, and if it hurts and causes pain – it’s not his fault you see.
It never ever alters, in battle it won’t yield. When using it in his defence it makes an awesome shield. He even stabs his friends with it, which causes them to flee, but when it wounds and hurts them – it’s not his fault you see.
At times it hurts each one of us, but always it is right. It cannot weep for casualties, it’s righteous in its fight. He knows that it won’t let him down, there’s nothing with more dignity, but when it causes suffering – it’s not his fault you see.
He’s not afraid to face it, though it cuts him like the rest. Throughout his life he’s trusted it but still he hasn’t guessed. That just because it’s right and true, it does not guarantee, that when it hurts and causes pain, it’s not his fault – you see.
© Andy(ArT)Trigg 2001