The Sword that I carry

Though made not of iron or steel, 

It is a mighty sword

That I proudly do so wield.

Though it wont break the skin

Or combat the weapons of a foe

But this is a mighty sword of mine

More precious than silver or gold.

This sword that I carry

I proudly display it in my hand, 

For I know this sword of mine

Is greater, than any other mans.

It comforts me when I am tired

It will warm me when I am cold

It will lie down beside of me

To protect, and strengthen my soul.

The sword that I hold

Is tattered, and so very worn

It has been a friend along side of me, 

In the sunshine and many storms.

It has shown me a path to follow

And has lit the road that I  walk, 

And those nights when I was alone and scared

Then to me, I could hear it talk.

The sword that I wield

Though may be different, in shape or size, 

But it is the same sword

Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.

It has been here since the dawn of time

And will be here when the great walls fall, 

And then when all men of war and hate reflect, 

My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.

RANDY L. McCLAVE