Poem: Ghosts and Swords

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Ghosts and Swords

One by one they leave.
A few with fireworks.
some with stealth,
slowly wisping away like morning fog.

And what will you do when the last ghost leaves,
when those familiar fears say their goodbyes
and leave you?

What will be left to fight?
Will you be able to put down your sword
and drip your shields to the ground?

Or will you invent new ones,
more comfortable with battle
than peace?

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