powerless

i have this strange dream sequence. i like how the word 'strange' rolls on my tongue; it adds to the disjointed sensation i get when i listen to sigma by secret garden. it's a scene straight out of "gladiator", sans the warrior hordes of the invading roman centurions. fields of wheat stretch for miles, blown by a gentle, omnipresent breeze. the sun is in my eyes, low in the western sky. as the violin scuds to the top of the melodic line, i raise both my arms above my head, palms pressed together. then i part the clouds swiftly in a downward arc as my knee rises slowly towards the center of my body. i row down a stream and as my hands glide back towards the sky, it lingers at my waist. in the next instant, my right hand sweeps across my body and draws the bokken tied to my left hip. i feel the wooden blade flat against my left palm before resting it against my forehead, the curve of my arms shielding my eyes from the sun's glare as i gaze at sempai before me. katas move slowly across my mind, swirling between us, making mincemeat of time that will not stop its steady march. in his eyes lie years of gentleness hidden behind a mask of steeliness. of course i must kill him, as he will me. in the deadly dance that follows, life is fragile, leaping off the tips of our swords, breathing frenziedly between the neck and the blade before it is parried and we jump away from each other, breathing raggedly, continuing the kata that must lead to the only resolution: death.

the hakama's pleats brush against my legs as i twist under his sword's lethal swings. my toes dig into the earth as i pause, the penultimate moment. then my left knee shoots forward, right leg behind me extended, my sword held gently, but surely, in a final slash across his jugular and heart. the only echo resounds off the distant hills: "hhhhaaaaaaiiiii....!!" 1 - 2 -3 seconds. his blood runs down into the valley. then i push off the balls of my feet and stand against the setting sun. our silhoeuttes are still, gi flapping around our bodies. then we touch the hilt of our swords and bow slightly to each other.