A soul of strong metal, I cannot feel.
My birth began as a block of steel.
Inanimate object that mankind defines,
With purpose, an objective, with drawings and designs.
The heat of the fire does soften my nature.
With hammer and anvil, my spirit denatured.
Taking on the shapes as desired by man.
Converting my power to fit in his hand.
Intricate workings, fitting so precise,
Intentions understood, the meaning concise.
A tool I am created, to be used as I may,
To deter, to threaten, to wound and to slay.
Like all designs before me, that mankind creates,
Taking on the shape that my creator dictates.
Having nothing to do with the politics of man,
I am just another tool, like a rock in your hand.
Like the stick as a club, and the spear, and the bow.
Mankind chooses the way to challenge his foe.
Never once were we asked our opinion or taste.
Never once were we asked if we deem this a waste.
We are simply resources that God chose to provide.
The darker purpose was that which mankind has plied.
So do not place blame on the weapon in hand.
Instead you should question the judgments of man.
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