A Legend's Birth Poem by Howard Long

The blade was snapped and broken,
the sword was cracked and bent.
The tool of man's resurgence,
is now asunder rent.
It lies in grass forsaken,
trodden underfoot.

Its quest is now a legend,
though it lies with great unrest.
The throngs will see the edges,
and its story they'll attest
of bloodied nights and eves
of smould'ring fires relit
as angry men and thieves
were traded cut for cut.

The splinters on the ground
bemoan their sorry fate.
Their voices intermingled
as tongues of flaming light.
No one will heed their pleas
for they are legends yet.
The story that is told
is iron bound at ends.