Forged from megasteel and wood,
by those intent on doing good.
Form and function made as one,
a trigger pull and your enemy is gone.
A tool of Peace your rifle is,
Doom to foe and Life to Friend.
Guardian, discard all timid intent,
for not even in death does your duty end!
Evil does not sleep,
its minions exist to make you weep.
Your future is what they want to vend,
unless you shoot them dead.
A tool of Peace your rifle is,
Doom to foe and Life to Friend.
Guardian, discard all timid intend,
for not even in death does your duty end!
Sharpen the mind and reforge your soul,
being one with your rifle is the goal.
Ancestral spirits guideth thine aim,
invader’s life you will claim.
A tool of Peace your rifle is,
Doom to foe and Life to Friend.
Guardian, discard all timid intend,
for not even in death does your duty end!
The rifle sings her wholesome song,
you mind, body, and soul now chime along.
Ascension cometh, yet your rifle still chants.
A tale of dents and kill notches,
teach your son the Way of Peace she will!
***
If you like this poem, grab the first Velin novella with the same title.
Very cool, thanks for the recommendation.