I have a weapon
It is b my side always
A futile defense against
The Armies of the Knight
It is, nevertheless, my only protection
And so I cling to it
To the gilded handle
So small even in my small hands
And I stare-
Into my gleaming reflection
my paralyzed face between
the two razor-sharp edges
The fear, the anger, the pride,
the doubt all looking back
-and mocking my defenslessness
against the onslaught
Of the unknown
Then one day I heard it,
The Voice in the Wilderness, calling for me:
"Shout for joy, O daughter of Zion!
Shout in triumph, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
O Daughter of Jerusalem!
The Lord has taken away His
judgemets against you,
He has cleared away your enemies
The KIng of Israel, the Lord, is
in your midst;
You will fear disaster no more."
The blade is now rusted,
never to be reborn.
I look and all I see are crumbled defenses,
from a battle that was never mine to fight.

Assured of defeat I had to surrended.
And so won.