We swap hyperlink chatter for chain-mail clatter, thumb-sparks peppering cheap denim with ember freckles. No mission statement—only steel on strop or stone, queer clang leaking from the shoebox flat like pirated midnight radio.…
Begin with reverence— your edge, a fine and fervent tongue, a truth-beveled sliver of steel, in trembling, fire-tempered hands. Stand firm, dear blade, in whispers and whetstone murmurs; angle yourself…
We rise as stars they hoped would never burn, glow as sparks they tried to smother in ash. Let them build walls to keep us out, draw lines that define…
