Tanka Over, Again

The sword hangs above –
Mantel – put safely away,
But eyes caress it
Palms itch its hilt to hold, grasp
Power the blade promises.

/////////////////////////////////////////

Right or Wrong, we can
Become who we mean to be
If we follow dreams
Which take us, loving, beyond –
Familiar habitations.

/////////////////////////////////////////

Writing the wishes
No magic ever renders
For humans are free
Souls crave every destiny,
Love guiding all that will be.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Prompt: Do you tanka?

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