Karate

Karate, to me at least, is a blissful state in which the torments of this world fade away and the embrace of feral instinct rush forth to deliver an awe inspiring flow of maneuvers. A wondering resplendent blade, only but a glimpse or a flash, grooves its path through the wind to sing a faint euphony to my ears. My hand clasps the hilt for only a moment to send the fatal accoutrement into a harmless flight as the moon manifests its ghostly face upon the gleaming silver. The sword glides into my awaiting hand becoming uniform and is sheathed with a satisfying clink of metal. Reality creeps up my spine in the penetrating cold. A bead of sweat trickles down my face to soundlessly drop on the chilled pavement. I habitually give a cascading glance downwards as I remove the splintered sheath, while reaching for the old weather worn bostaff. Spinning the six-foot fragment of bamboo upwards, I felt the the unhindered spirit of freedom warm my soul as it invigorated my hands to manipulate the now propeller-like object to rotate behind me and whip into the air to sojourn with my soul's puppets. My fingers then guide the bostaff behind me to rest... I will contribute more to this.