Futilistic...

My sword arm is tired. I stand on the slope of a hill with blood streaming from a dozen wounds or more. But I don't feel the pain of my torn skin and shredded flesh. I don't feel the sting of sweat dripping into my eyes, or the sullen resentful gurgles floating up from my empty belly, or even the dull throbbing from my partially crushed foot. Just the arm. A score of warriors at least have fallen before my wrath this day, with a group of nearly as many poised to fall on me at any moment. If I could lift the other arm I would use it instead. Ahh...I hear them just around that bend. Looks like I may get to rest after all.

At least a few more will know the wrath of the samurai.


P.S. I have never in my life flown a kite. I must be some kind of freak, huh? }:)