They say the sword is the soul of the samurai,
And still, the mind is the seat of the soul.
Your mind is your blade.
I’ve often heard you say that it is too slow and cluttered,
I vehemently disagree.
Yours is a blade forged in the fires of your will.
Folded with hands of compassion,
with the impurities pounded away by your own internal strife.
And cooled in the waters of empathy.
It’s edges sharp enough to hack away at the weeds of delusion in the minds of others,
And pointed enough to pierce the veil to find truth.
Though it’s forging may have seemed slow,
It was done with the utmost care.
Crafted with the expertise of a legendary swordsmith,
And wielded with a kind of calm ferocity only present in the finest warrior.
Yours is a sword you will never lay down,
You will hold it up to the sun, and it will reflect all your inner glory.
This is the beauty of your blade.
Dedicated to Anna Satori, Amber J. Vadner, and all my confidants and mental sparring partners. May your blades be held up to the sun for a thousand lifetimes