"Sword & Sorcery"

I want to make of you a fantasy
of all my own, dipped in hot flesh
to redden, whiten under hammer blows.
Brightly banging pulse and singing breath
of anvil and surging bellows:
You, the holy forge
I work and sweat and slave upon an age
Until with bursts of molten urge and will
We shake, collapse and I draw forth - the blade!
All droopy, now unsuitable to kill
The finished sword! Revealed, reforged, remade!
As was foretold, now finally fulfilled
- yet maybe, let's again
just to be safe.
Let's forge this thing.
Some prophecies were made
to come to pass
But once, but some
are more for everyday,
and some for more.
To stand at call, at need.
Stand forth and play! Stand fast
and strike as fair in love as war.
Or fairer still. That wouldn't be
so hard. Yet sometimes that's
quite perfectly okay.