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poetry And I smile, tightening my grip. He stands across from me, and I see him do the same as we wait, for though we know the possible movements, the best manner of advance, still we wait, for best is not guaranteed, and with surprise the worst may in time become the winning stroke. And so we both consider carefully, not quite daring, not yet. I see him slip a foot forward cautiously, so that’s how it was going to go. I move in the same way, as a mirror, and his eyes narrow. Suspicion. I like it. Things are beginning to look good. But I cannot claim victory now, not now, while our swords are still there at our sides, still waiting silently for the decision, that moment when we burst forward, and they reach for the other. And then his eyes flash, I brace my feet against the ground. And I smile. ------ twisting fast i jump swift and then a clash oh what fun the fire dancing in our eyes a slow smile we stop staring slowly slowly we stare searching searching for the slightest hint of what was to come next. next how would we strike when would it come from whom would it come the next blow the next attack the next dodge the next parry the next counter my excitement rises in anticipation and i can see my opponent reacting the same we both long for it the rush and we cannot wait any longer no no no not anymore twisting fast i jump swift and then a clash oh what fun! ------ rising slowly falling fast growing fully sigh and rest to what end and what path shall i stand seeking now a sooner sight of lasting life seek long until i see what lies before me ------ A blast, A boom, An explosion of power Rings forth And reduces stone to powder. Strength And size Matched into one. What hope was there Once it was done? What thought, What action, Could possible compare, In that destruction They saw everywhere? White fire And ash Rains down from above In a sight more lovely than a dove. |