A mighty hand reaches from the sky,
Shrouded in mist from time gone by,
Far above, cold land below,
Grasping hilt of silvered blade,
Weapon of the gods displayed,
Topped with crown and leafy wreath,
The sword is sharp without its sheath,
Crown is pierced by sword beneath,
Double edge, grit your teeth,
Accept the challenge, use your mind,
You have the power, you have the will,
When you decide to do no ill,
Reserves of strength you will find,
And victory to you will bind.

By Mel Beasley