The Sword

For years have I borne
This sword, to surrender it
Would permit the years

To accumulate,
Would then I die. But now would
I lay it down at

Your feet. I deem you
Worthy to carry my sword,
My mantle, my staff.

Pick up your sword, old
Man, your work is not yet done.
We will reclaim this

House, this temple, this
World. None will stand before
Us. Victory waits.

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