Murderous Melody in Moonlight

Slender chalk fingers glow in moonlight,

Curved grip sliding with dragon tail smoothness,

Teasing out its tool of slaying,

With arcing path a sparkling stream;

Snaking silver, crisp, cold, clean,

A heartless tip to touch their hearts.



Poised, motionless, all is one and one is all,

Tinkling water with rock struck irregularity,

Wingbeat of a circaidia on strong stem,

Apathetic warmth of wind starved air,

Silken brush of fabric from the East,

Four synchronised dust dirtied footfalls.



Her eyes open to the world.

Darker shadows from dark,

Lives as hers but humanity veiled,

Harder to see, easier to strike.

Every sword has a whistle to its stroke,

Every fighter a pattern to their dance;

Reading the pattern is to play a complex score,

Harmony to the rhythm, body matching flows.



So she dances, so her sword sings,

They score slashes and grazes,

Discords to the melody as she reads their play.

One by one they fall in tune,

Death in perfection, lifeless fulfilment,

The dance is done, the melody played,

A silent encore to the victor,

Standing on a crimson stage.