I hold a blade in my hands,
the steel shimmers in the light.
It's power seems to intrigue me.

The blade is decorated,
in the words from my own mouth.
The inscription glistens bright.

The blade itself is my heart,
glowing brightly in the night.
It is a most powerful weapon.

The edge of the blade is but,
the thoughts of my mind, ground sharp.
With this edge the blade cuts well.

The hilt is but mine own will,
ever defending me well.
It is strong, borad, and powerful.

The very tip of the blade,
is the path that I am destined,
to take, and to wield long well.

Finally, the handle is but,
my true body as all see, it,
is covered with leather.