My Hands

A powerful energy flows through them
Responsibility caught and held
In their capable grasp they heal
Create, nurture, and meld
Lives balanced in a palm
My life as well as others
They are the hands of an artist
A student, warrior, and lover
Scarred with victories of battles past
Rough from hard work, yet soft to the touch
Strong hands that can move mountains
But melt in caress of skin lightly brushed
A hand that has clenched in rage
It grasps the hilt of a sword
And searches for a loving embrace
Of another hand like mine
One that singlehandedly steals my breath
And brings it back in a fever pitch moan
My hands are the hands of a goddess
And through them a great power flows

All of Life is War

In my delirium of life
I wander through the dawn
A lone and lonely figure
Moving forward, moving on
Many a battle I have fought
And many more I will
It seems that all of life is war
And I've more blood to spill
Every step of every day
Another sword to swing
An adversary to defeat
A new tourney to fight and win
I grow weary of the trudging
I grow weary of the days
But of the fight I always thrill
I welcome challenge come my way
Dripping blood and battle scars
With each battle I grow stronger
Readying this lone and lonely figure
For the war that wages longer