Wednesday, March 4, 2015
The warrior does not wonder if a dull blade tears the skin before he cuts. His preparation is to be sharp. He embraces the touch of the weapons handle taking honor in the protection and impediment of life reflecting himself and his enemy. The combatant falls by its side holding to glory followed down by a swift trickling stroke. From silver to red a tear towards the light, drifting to a twinkle reflection piercing from its edge that of fallen that of life. The knowledge of the blade's sorrow of is his only betrayal as man laid to dust a remarkable foe. The sword's life being coexistent with his, held in tandem the soul willing to take, the soul willing to give.