Dance Of The Swords Poem by Paul Barrowman

　
　
　
A single Shadow of darkness drives against the iron night sky, patiently focused on the distant tear of Light. Wild jealousy feeds desperation and the Shadows heart is filled with an overflowing biting, gnashing anger.

He moves with wanting swiftness, silent to all foreign ears but his own. His black eyes violently fixate on the purity of his foe as he draws closer down the path. He says in his heart, “I am unmatched and cannot be defeated, for I am veiled by the  
darkness of the night. I will consume and destroy the Light, I will eat its flesh and he will be no more.”

Drawing nearer, his pace quickens, his black veins pulsate and fill with a flowing seething hate. The dust around his feet clouds and plooms up into the air.

With a cape of dust flowing from his back, He draws his
sword in mid stride to strike down The enemy. The black blade raises up into the starless sky to kill but is suddenly matched by the blinding, piercing flash of the Lights Hidden blade. The two blades meet and the earth trembles…

The ground rolls beneath the two opponents feet and both the Shadow and Light separate. Just as the night sets to concur the day, The Shadow stands opposed to the Light and readies his final attack.

The light stands in the midst of the wilderness surrounded by darkness and raises his blade, banishing the dust that erodes his vision. The Shadow moves to attack and the Lightning strikes.

So begins the Dance of the Swords.