The Word and the Blade

I have owned words,
owned them all,
owned them as a suit–
impenetrable.

I have had time,
had it all,
had it as a leaf–
momentarily.

I have seen my canopy
grown bare within the winter
of my solitary despair,
and known nothing,
and done nothing
but watch the leaves
cascade from me;

I have owned the armor,
and forged myself
as blacksmiths do for blade,
but I could not
have borne the hammer
that took the words from me.

I have known the world
known it all
known it as a farce–
tragically.

I have owned a suit,
owned it well,
owned it as keepsake–
unusable.

There comes a time
when all your words are but
a continuing excuse
for why your armor is on the shelf
and you won’t pick up the blade.