One By Silver, One By Flame

One by Silver, One by Flame

 A hoot of an owl rings through the night.

Golden eyes flash, wings take flight

Lands on the branch of a Tumtum tree,                           

Before your eyes, happens a miraculous deed.

 

From feathers to skin a human takes shape.

Sword in hand, eyes agape,

His mortal foe is on his mind,

Not long ago, with whom he just dined.

 

 Front door opens without a squeak.

Sword in hand, he begins to sneak

Eyes wary, his sword clutched tight,

For it is his only protection on this fateful night.

 

 A spurt of flame, light blazes high.

A face of shock, hand flies to his side.

Two blades meet, one silver, one gold,

Neither relinquishing the hilt’s tight hold.

 

An echoing clash, a sudden gasp,

And one man falls, his breath a rasp.

The other stands there, he blade stained with red.

“Oh brother, what have I done? You shall soon be dead.”

 

 The other fingers his wound without any hate.

And says, “Heed me brother, we shall both be late.”

With his last breath breathed, he breathed no more,

His body convulsed and fell to the floor.

 

The other is still, then takes the dying flame.

Crying out his anger at both himself and his bane.

 

He put the torch near to his head.

Then let it burn, to make himself dead.

 

 The next day, two bodies, not one, was found.

To each other, Death’s tight grip was bound,

The situation was dire, one of shame

Kin killing kin, slain by silver and flame.