A Call for the Sword

No long and weary path should have gotten to forge me a sword of such heavy and sharp blade; one not to be blunted by the torn flesh neither by broken bones of the many battles, one to withstand wind and rain, stone and fire, one to withstand sorrow and pain, grief and agony. Nevertheless, I appeal to hold today in my hands the forged sword.

Then I gave in to a glance at the setting sun I shall not have resisted, walking under the bleeding orange sky. Neither could I have missed the call coming from the mountains, a call I heard with my heart rather than my ears. Even so, I could not tell what the call demanded of the travelers of this lonely, rocky trail I had chosen to take.

I shut my eyes to let the wind blow disturbing thoughts off my head and away from my grasp but by doing so, my imagination got the chance to echo the groaning call louder in my head. Opening my eyes, I could not help staring at the mountains for a long lasting moment. Let me be another passenger to have heard and overheard the cry from the high mountains!

A cry to remind me of the salty sweat rushing down dusty skins in battlefields, sounding like the cry of men wielding swords, as their sharp blades cut through flesh with the dusk sky portraying perfectly the fine film of blood covering their eyes. Within the short instant of silence then I heard clinking wine glasses in joy and glory, celebrating victory of men who have never known of battles fought, of lives lost and of friends left behind. So I knew why the silence, for tears were to be shed upon those fighting the battles, losing their lives and upon the parting of friends and loved ones.

Suddenly traces of dust sweat and blood appeared on my hands, as my empty and exhausted lungs pleaded for fresh air. I was solely another passerby on that road, alone and blue, wielding with no expectations the sword of the times to fight my way through fate, assuming to have a weak heart but strong will.

All at once, I realize the weigh of this sharp blade left in my hands and the call from the mountains sounds irresistible. I change my path one more time and I hear the wind sing in distant forest,

That the blue moon shall turn red tonight