The artificer’s sword

I did not know how to wield love.

It turned in my hands like a heavy sword, stronger than its artificer had intended;

too much of a match for my grip that was soft and scared.

It was meant to slice through the veils and mark a path in the woods for us to follow.

Instead it dropped, awkward and with all of its metal weight.

It cut when it was meant to guide

It hurt, when it was supposed to protect.

I did not have the strength yet for such a task.

When I lifted it, it swayed to the side knocking my feet off balance

Until I lost my way and could not find the place where I had started from.

Alone now with my sword of love I was left to battle.

I stayed there in the clearing,

lunging, lifting

growing strong with the effort.

When I became tired, I laid down to rest;

always holding the sword close,

my grip unrelenting but not yet skilled enough to endure the tests of battle.

Alone and undaunted I fought.

As the days passed my feet became light,

my arms strong and sure,

and hands no longer soft or scared.

As my form strengthened, something strange began to happen.

My heart grew tender with the passing hours.

The sword no longer seemed like a weapon.

Love met with logic and the rational appeared.

Consciousness remained.

We fought some days long into the night.

The stars twinkled down upon me as I danced my strange dance in the moon light.

Confronting every memory and thought that would keep me from Him.

My mind fired patterns and habits

one after the other before me

and I clumsily sought to strike them down.

I cried out.

My lungs burned.

I lifted my sword time and again against the shadows that at first appeared as others

until time revealed to me their true identity.

It was me who I had been fighting this entire time.

As this dawned on me one evening

I had to admit I was a worthy opponent.

I had put up a good fight,

a long fight.

I looked down at the sword still locked within my grip.

It had changed along with the shape of my heart.

It was no longer metal but instead a shaft of light,

glowing and warm.

“Ahhhaa” I murmured, “so this, this is love.”

Now I am ready for battle.