Sword of Silence
A blade as cold as frost,
Takes a soul as its cost,
A cost for the words it speaks,
A cost for the silence at its peaks,
Like a Spaniard dance,
The sword does an enigmatic prance,
Tearing the flesh it bears,
But yet no sound occurs,
The palm that holds its hilt,
Is destroyed just as it was built,
Nothing appears to be guiding,
The blade's whose words are hiding,
Man after man and army after army,
Battalions fall in silence, but with harmony,
And to the fearless leader's surprise,
The sword he held brought about his demise.