My Father has three swords sitting on a shelf.
He even let me hold one once, all by myself.
These blades are very special, as anyone could see.
But no one may ever know how special they are to me.
The first, my Father told me, is for the strength we have inside.
The strength we find with practice in a talent we can't hide.
It has been through many battles, and can vanquish any foe.
Through endurance and determination it will protect from any blow.
The second is quite special, He says, we have to take our time.
By precept upon precept, and also line upon a line.
This shining blade is knowledge, what we learn and how we grow.
How sharp the edge can get, I may never even know.
The third sword is much lighter, and easier to bear.
But is also the most fragile, and so we take much care.
This blade is wrought in water and by light of flame.
At the strong and sturdy hilt, it bares my Father's name.
These swords are very special. I use them every day.
My Father gave them all to me, to help me on my way.
Soon a battle will arise, as never seen before.
But I will be prepared, and shall be tempted nevermore.
