sunrise

[havik_seule]

hope, caught on a sabre's end,
tired old blade,
polished to face a new day.
never realized how lost i was,
trapped in fall,
with no idea of spring.
a rising sun finds reflection
on the flying blade,
a second of chaotic ballet.
never thought i could make a path,
having lost purpose in fallen leaves-
and sleepwalker's life not mine.
the sabre's dance looks to my offered hand,
new found rays kiss old scars,
as the blade is embraced by my hand.

an explanation for the blade (before im accused of making a happy cutter poem). the sabre mentioned is a colorgurad sabre, which, well-balanced, can be tossed pretty high. the skill isnt so much in tossing the sabre, though, but in catching a thin, rapidly spinning blade.

[havik_seule]

i knew the poem wasnt my best (actually, it sucked).. but..