Eternal Vigil

In the chamber where shadows dance, a blade stands tall, Its golden hilt a beacon of light, a silent call. A throne behind, draped in blue, whispers of power and might, Yet the sword, a sentinel, guards the unseen, the unspoken, the night. The cross on its hilt, a symbol of faith, a bridge between worlds, A testament to honor, a promise to those who are lost. The wood beneath, a pedestal of strength, a foundation of trust, A reminder that even in stillness, the spirit remains, steadfast and just. Red curtains part, a stage for the unseen, a theater of time, Where the sword, a silent actor, plays its role in the divine. The viewer, drawn in, sees themselves reflected in the blade's gleam, A mirror of courage, a call to rise, a journey to redeem. This is not just a sword, but a soul, a keeper of stories untold, A symbol of legacy, a beacon of hope, a path to be bold. In its presence, the heart beats stronger, the spirit awakens anew, For in the vigil of the eternal, we find our own truths, our own hue.