Vow in the Shadows

In inked night he bows, his breath held close in stone; A silent blade keeps watch, a witness made of steel. The world is dust and hush, where brittle hopes are sown; In shadows, oath takes root, and grief becomes his shield. His knuckles lock like vows around the hilt’s cold line; A thousand storms are trapped behind his lowered brow. No trumpet breaks the dark, no sun dares try to shine; He stands within the void, and chooses onward now.