The blade is quenched

When only silence reigns
And blade long slept tend
When time passes bitter
And those long dead rise bidden
Does blade and purpose mend

Silence is the edge
Swept clear of tired path
When winter cuts
And storm does wake

So is purpose borne
So is life rebought
In form, for power
Wrought

Pushed aside young light
For you have called
And I have come