Splitting selves

I am

The extension of the blade

That has helped kill this planet

bit

by

bit

day

 

by

 

day.

Regardless of the bluntness or sharpness the day finds me in,

I am the movable force that pierces through years of living history.

Swing me truthfully and ahead I shall crack,

Use me with doubt and you might have to swing back.

Feel your grip tighten as we prepare for contact,

Feel your calluses start to form as we leave nothing intact.

My grip, if wooden, is consequence of the work of my forefathers,

Can you guess who I am,

You modern-day-meaning carvers?