the path of the sword

there are two ways before me:
two ways, yet one road. . .
I am an extension of the Sword
or—the Sword is an extension of me. . .
perceiving the World through choice
my reason's voice is silent.
it's afraid to be wrong. . .
but in silence and in the void
the choice was made.

now—it's turn to look around,
and cut to the core of my instinct. . .
feel the mirrored surface
and edge of the blade;
heat that breathed life into it
and cold water that hardened.

a lonely eagle has
spread his curved wings' edges
and slices through the wind

an abyss appeared before the warrior:
he kneeled,
putting his sword before him;
he left his home
and native steppes where friends
sang in unison with the wind. . .

he took his faithful blade from its sheath
and with a shout, he has cut the nets—
the nets that pulled him down into the gloom.