The Emperor’s Katana – Lessons from the master craftsman

“ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes homines”, “as gold is tempered by fire, so strong men are tempered by suffering”.

skywing12

He took the metal, valuable and unique, and laid it in the fire. With an innate passion watching it, until the hue was just right, the color of heat, moving as storm cloud over the plain of the metal. Lightning strikes and thunder claps induced by his worn sledge shouted changes to nature, destroying the original form. In a violent move, calling out the tempest, he plunged it into the muddy water, clouded with ash and clay, a chaotic mix of elements, ugly in their application, wondrous in their result. Angry steam rose, the steel yelling at the breaking of its will, a will formed by nature, broken by the same. Fire and water, opposites, yet being used together to create a new thing, taking their turns as catalysts, creating beauty and power unsurpassed by the ordinary, waiting for their turn in the flames. Thousands of times, the process, the rhythm of breaking down, bending, melding, heating, were repeated, shocking it, breaking it from the apathetic staleness of commonality. The old man smiled and, in his careful hands, the metal changed, growing finer in composition, growing closer to its’ polished destiny as the Emperor’s Katana.


Accepting the opposites in my life, the fire and water of pain and joy, allows me transformation. My life changed by them from an ordinary, dull life of discord, into a life of gleaming beauty, purpose, and fulfillment. The trials, the pain, the joys and successes, I will let them have their way, not fighting what will bring me to completion. My destiny, wholly original and amazing, a rare and exquisite life, being declared as the Emperor’s Katana.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine
12212011

Power of the Blade – Faith in action

   “Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.” – Khalil Gibran

“If fear is cultivated it will become stronger, if faith is cultivated it will achieve mastery.” 
Swinging wildly, I caught the beast just under the jaw line. It’s chilled dark blood spewed across my chiseled chest and tainted my lips with the taste of iron. My blade performed perfectly, its power in the sound of visions, its speed in the echo of images burned in my mind from my youth. The creature fell like so many, and meat for the taking lay at my feet. The promise of the blade is that with unwavering certainty, the purpose of the wielder is accomplished. Like many of the nether regions promises, a condition of sort is implied. I cannot for one second doubt the accuracy and lethality of the keen edge and rune struck blade, for in that second of doubt, the blade dulled and its weighty course lost it’s objective. It’s quite disturbing to see my weapon lose its edge and become a twig in my hand. I learned over the course of many battles, that faith in that blade, gave me favor and strength in my choices as I pressed across this desert land. During one lengthy battle I lost my grip and it flew off down a steep ravine. Left with only a very ordinary staff, I forgot to lose faith…for so long I trained myself to never doubt, that I swung that wooden accessory and to my amazement, it hit home with the same unerring providence! I then learned that, the blade though magical, only served to train me, that though magic is strong, faith is stronger and even above the metamorphic power of unseen spells, my faith gave me the ability to transform the ordinary into that of perfect power. I found my blade, but, I never forgot the lesson. All things are possible with faith, and if I will just persevere with that faith, though I lost one advantage, another will fulfill my purpose just as well.

He Will Never Stop – Endurance in spite of opposition

“If any of you have a desire to be mediocre, you will probably find that you have already achieved your ambition.” – Hugh B. Brown
totamanie

Sweat drops find their way down his brow

Sword drops resting on the ground
One more swing to win this victory
Never will he stop

Sounds of the crowd who never understand
Shouts of their doubt force his hand
One more try to break free
Never will he stop

Accusations thrown out of animosity
Ridiculous minds seeking a curiosity
One more valiant swing
Never will he stop

Its the end of a thing that is better than its start
Pushing past mediocrity, his fight a fine art
One more heave to the end
Never will he stop 

04162011

He Will Never Stop – Endurance in spite of opposition

“If any of you have a desire to be mediocre, you will probably find that you have already achieved your ambition.” – Hugh B. Brown
totamanie

Sweat drops find their way down his brow

Sword drops resting on the ground
One more swing to win this victory
Never will he stop

Sounds of the crowd who never understand
Shouts of their doubt force his hand
One more try to break free
Never will he stop

Accusations thrown out of animosity
Ridiculous minds seeking a curiosity
One more valiant swing
Never will he stop

Its the end of a thing that is better than its start
Pushing past mediocrity, his fight a fine art
One more heave to the end
Never will he stop 

04162011

Old Tubal Cain – We will not forget the sword

“and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” 

The following is a post from lucifelle. It is an excellent poem both in form and message. My favorite line, “we’ll not forget the sword”. Always fight for what you believe in. Peace. 

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when the earth was young;
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright
The strokes of his anvil rung ;
And he lifted high his brawny hand
On the iron growing clear,
Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,
As he fashioned the sword and spear.
And he sang, ” Hurrah for my handiwork !
Hurrah for the spear and the sword !

Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,
For he shall be king and lord ! “
But a sudden change came o’er his heart
Ere the setting of the sun ;
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain
For the evil he had done.
He saw that men, with rage and hate,
Made war upon their kind ;
That the land was red with the blood they shed
In their lust for carnage blind.
And he said, “Alas ! that I ever made,
Or that skill of mine should plan,
The spear and the sword for men whose joy
Is to slay their fellow-man! “
And men, taught wisdom from the past,
In friendship joined their hands,
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,
And ploughed the willing lands ;
And sang, “Hurrah for Tubal Cain !
Our stanch good friend is he ;
And for the ploughshare and the plough,
To him our praise shall be.
But while oppression lifts its head,
Or a tyrant would be lord,
Though we may thank him for the plough,
We’ll not forget the sword.”