The Sword

31 Jan


A sword is a symbol of power. It is a weapon for attacking or defending. With the right person, it ensures justice and order. With the wrong ones, we expect chaos and disorder. It is one object I associate myself.

A sword is formed by forging and tempering steel, under extreme heating, cooling and reheating. It is crafted from thousand of hammer blows and beating to achieve desired properties, finished by a well crafted handle and fine sharpening.

Steel in itself is already strong. It is a unique metal derived from iron ore, coal and other minerals. It is lighter than iron but many times stronger than it. Forging, hammering, quenching and tempering are processes introduced to increase not just hardness but also the strength and quality of the sword itself.”

“How long you need to, say hammer the sword?” says a curious man. “There is no direct formula. It depends on how you feel you need to hammer it. After several hundred of blows, you can have a feel of the unfinished sword. You will know by heart if that thing can still take it or no more. To attain its maximum strength, the process must be exacted at verge of breaking. Anything more will make the sword break, hence useless.” said the blacksmith.

There is only one difference from that fact – that I am unbreakable. My malleable limits are infinite. Not even the infinite or infinitesimal attempt to break me will prosper. I do not lose my characteristics upon life’s beating. I collect them and make them part of my indestructible form. Of course it can only apply to my mind and spirit. The flesh does not always agree.

The sword is my personality. My handle is for those who are learned of the art. I am free to use. But be reminded that I am no one’s master nor I choose any one. I am the master of myself. I have all the geniuses you can think and need from a sword. I am a tool, but I am not a slave.

The unique duality of a sword is my very nature: for justice or impunity, offense or defense, to live or to die. Tested by fire, hammered by ridicule under the anvil of isolation. As a sword made for human use, I am, built to tear flesh. But not yet. I am just a sword waiting to be done – a sword asking for more beating.

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Posted by on January 31, 2013 in Personal


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