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Maybe its the city side of some people that can only take so much. But I've spent equal time in rual and urban areas so I dont know. Then again its like i said. Ive walked the same woodland path time and time again and never once felt anything. Then you get a feeling. You turn and see this tree. And the alarm bells ring. No way to explain why. It just happens. But it can go the other way too. You pass an old house and get that feeling. A dark alleyway. Strange as it may seem it happens to us all at one point or another.
With me, i read way too much. When i get the jumps in the woods my mind pictures something horrible with wings hovering over the ground flying just outta reach of me. If i even once turn back from my flight away it will give it the distance to nab me. Even at 34 I still can picture it and feel the fear it gave me back then.
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It means only one thing, and everything: Cut. Once committed to fight, Cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut. The lines are a portrayal of the dance. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resoultely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don't allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depth of his spirit. It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death. It is the law a war wizard lives by, or he dies.
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