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Nov 2017
Imagine seeing a silvery blade dancing to the music of death.
Marred by the poetry of blood
A trumpet to the cries of war
But it also reflects the wielder.
When looking at it, you can see yourself.
But in my eyes, I can see the steel's heart.
As it's in your hand, preparing to protect, it's polished until it shines like luna wildfire.
In the end, I believe the true beauty of a katana comes not from the hilt or engravings, but from the steel.
How many songs has it sang in our battles, can you imagine...?
A katana's beauty comes from the polished steel as it's shines so brightly
with victorious prayers.
This poem is dedicated to several katana that I saw in a museum near me.
(I'm a nerd for these things and I'm not shamed)
Lyn-Purcell
Written by
Lyn-Purcell  28/F/United Kingdom
(28/F/United Kingdom)   
946
   Imran Islam
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