THE DAGGER'S CURSE
Gold-leaved, garnet-studded was the dagger
Upon wielding high and low, it wouldn't stagger
Playing mind-games with her victims, used she
The vicious weapon for an eternity.
Far and wide the stories went
travelling through lands of greedy men
yearning for wishes mighty cruel
of the Lady with a dagger on her belt.
Never giving a thought to morality and law
solely following the ringing of the knife
for once it was near a culprit, a prey
the dagger would longingly spring to life
One day however, on another path
To complete her task, to the dagger she asked
“What is my purpose on this way,
if not but to end existence gay?”
The dagger, having accompanied her bosom
to places far and wide, with heavy confusion
asked her if she wasn't content,
“Are you replicating the greed of men?”
Taken aback a little, she questioned the case
Was she looking for a shinier Grace
of Fortune? To befall her existence as she knew
After a while, a heavy breath she drew!
It seemed quite empty and bland
to continue living without giving a chance.
“I wish I could refuse your stinging chime,
Soon she found herself in a dingy brawl,
of murderous men with tattered shawls
“Feel the glint of Crime in them?”
Saying this the dagger chimed ferociously
Beckoning the Lady to turn all beastly
on this tribe of uncouth men
Turn them corpses, be their death-knell
The Lady, resigned to raise hell,
but as she raised her arm, she felt
a swell of emotion leave her eyes,
as she saw a babe of five.
The child padded over to the men,
who froze, upon seeing him bent
Over to pick a toy torn
From the earlier cacophonous brawl.
His father, a partaker in the fight
swept up from the ground, the teary-eyed child
He cradled softly the heart-broken boy
A younger Priam and Hector in Troy
In that humble moment saw she,
Nurture that could elicit envy
of a thousand Souls that she had sent
For agony unending in a prison hell.
“No”, said she, murmuring to the weapon
Having understood the chance he had taken
Of letting go the unjust unruled rife
towards a path of righteous life
“In this moment, he is not a fellow
who could devour cities off their Yellow
light of joy and merry existence
I cannot concede to your insistence.”
“Are the crimes of the past forgiven,
merely by a decision of the driven?”
“How else you reckon the crime began
for the first time, ‘twas the decision of a man!”
“I refuse to let the nature of change
Be taken over by your poisonous game;
Of ending life through and through
whether ‘twas gruesome murder or thievish shrew.”
Saying this, she left the pub, all coos
That day, the dagger failed and drew
no blood of men with failings changed,
The Lady’s death had been ordained.
Next, she came across a narrow path
With wolfish killer bandits hidden in grass.
Upon her reach, she couldn’t grasp
the Dagger had let go of its weapon, all crass!
Gutted and strangled the Lady fell,
rejoicing upon her last farewell
Having realized the weapon was not the dagger,
It was her, The Wielder, The Stabber.
Far away, apart, in a separate realm,
A child hearing fables of princesses and gems
came out to play, in the Garden shone
a golden dagger, she'd never seen before.
