Warriors Grace

A battlefield.
Blood and fire.
The dead linger.
Looking at the remaining two.
An austere audience.
They watch the two dancers.
Weilding their blades.
A white one. A black one.
A deadly dance.
Unnerving grace.
The beauty of the blades.
Each strike sounds like glass breaking.
The blades screaming at each other.
Sparks fly.
The earth shudders beneath their feet.
The water surges.
The sky is ripped apart.
The stars. The moon. The sun.
They watch with grief in thier eyes.
Violence.
No animals are left.
No a blade of grass sways.
Its as if time itself has stopped.
Every eye in the universe is on them.
The dancers move.
Circle each other.
They pause.
Sweat and sorrow.
They were brothers.
They were allies.
They were one.
No more.
They begin again.
A never-ending dance.
They use their props with grace.
The audience waches.
Waiting for that time.
When they can have their revenge.

By Leon