Samurai

                                  I


I know the blade. I live by it. I shall die by it. I breathe it. I eat it. I sleep it. I am at one with it.

I wake from my sleep as the cock crows. I walk to the upper balcony of my modest
farmhouse. Behind me my wife lays asleep beneath the many folds of our duvet. To the east the sun rises over the snowy mountain tops Spilling Light onto our quiet village. Her majestic rays break through the dull, dreary, gray clouds illuminating their underside in crimson. To anyone from the outside this would have been beautiful. To us is was saddening. "Blood has been split during the night" a gruff voice from bellow remarked, to no one in particular. "Aye" I called down but the owner of the gruff voice was lost in the mist on the hot springs. Where I should be going. As a walk on the cold, damp ground the icy chill cuts through me although i barely feel it. My thoughts are with my son. But I can not be distracted.
My mind must be a clear pool and as sharp as my blade. I must devote myself clearly to my cause. The cause of a samurai. But I can't be distracted. When distracted we are weak. When weak we are no use to the cause, only a burden. I must continue with my daily routine. I did so. And every day after that. Days passes into weeks, weeks into months, and every day the days grew shorter, the nights grew longer and the clouds more crimson.