Little Knife

This little knife, unbalanced in my hand,
A simple blade, and hilt of polished bone,
Once pulled like mem'ry from a distant land,
A scattered dream now frozen into stone,
How came you here? By humble Fortune’s sway,
Or by some trick of sallow Circumstance?
Or was it by the tide of Yesterday
That you will join Tomorrow’s stately dance?
So called unbalanced, to unbalanced ends,
To carve against the the ropes of rules unsound,
So freely offered from my newfound friends,
I offer service, purpose, all around,
O Little Knife, now balanced in my hand,
I offer all, your wish is my command.