The sword

Wading through the swirling streams,

To claim the famed sword of dreams,

I reached the island of the lost.

The sword was but broken, fake.

To the oceans next I was told to sail,

Where the true sword awaits.

A journey many brave souls did before,

Yet, the sword was but a rusty heap.

To the mountains, next I had to go,

Atop the grey naked peaks,

Where winds strip the flesh from you soul.

And yet, the sword was but a misty mirage.

The deserts, were left next.

When the moon shone its half face,

The sword would shine it was said,

But, I just returned to the plains.

A never ending chase it was,

I hope some brave knight did.

But, your wide happy eyes,

Cut sharper than it ever could.