Knives that are given are ominous,
Superstition shades them in doubt,
Their hafts may break under pressure,
The handles cracked by a lout.
From their shards a spark may be ignited,
New hopes from darkness shall rise,
Replaced shall be blade that was smited,
Chosen carefully with others more wise.

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Horsin' Around

This is a hometown instance run by Sam and Ingrid, for some friends.