This lazuli hue before me
I create out of my emotions
That i am attached to.
Yet the code tells and commands me
But when wield it upon my wrist to the hands that grips it
It allows to be my extension
Not as a weapon
But a life civil enough not to use it.
Yet a similar instance
When a rage becomes nothingness
And into a flurry of whizzes and blurrs my intention
Yet there is something
Holding back not to kill
Not to feel the pain
The suffering of blocks, jamming swinging
Of these blurred blades that i call
What then do i gain if i keep holding back
When the justice
Of the tip cant give life back
When it hits
One keeps yammering
Force is a force when you only have to
But doesnt need to.
Accustomed to be design.
A life of meaningless swerves of belief
Then belief if you use that which ends life
Passion or compassion
Arrogance or Impatience.
Call it whatever
A sabre is still a sabre.