The face of the timber, smooth and grand. What lies beneath the refined glass, a soul that never leaves. As fragile as it could seem, an evil filled within. All is seized beyond its chest, nothing heinous to be leashed.

Bright and blessed as it is, clear and sacred in its trail. Darkness ceased its holiness, tames all fears of forlornness.

Mind and soul in which they soar, hail its prowess to its core. Strong and vicious wield the sword, frail and faint shall never call.