The Summoning Knife
I am false as the shadows, going to light,
Eternal as leaves, flying in a strong wind,
Sincere as the words, at the bottom of gin;
Remorseful as fighters, who ended the fight.
I'm beautiful as sparks, falling quickly to earth,
The stuff dreams are made of, that sparkle in vain;
Quiet as the storm, when beginning to wane
Grows lovely as baby-filled mother, in birth.