Half a man

A shady spectre runs
across a sun-scorched, hate-filled land
twirling through the blades of demons
fights the shadow of half a man.

Inside a circle of burning death
behind the misted battle's din
pain is being for half a man
who fights half out - half in.

He swings with valor not his own
His sword is borrowed, wounds are lent
spirit cleft in twain, the fires
filled it - flaming, slowly spent.

a sounding crack, a blade that snaps
though foes might wax and wan
unstoppable, yet still fall more
to half the blade of half a man.

at last he smiles at skulls and bone
of sword and spear and staff
for death which for most claims but one
claims from him only half.


- Phobos

Comments are appreciated, thanks.

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Lleian, in the year 139 MA.