beneath an autumn moon,
then flashed
cutting through shadow,
bone,
flesh.
Some things can not be reversed.
Some things
probably ought not.
(I just finished reading Christopher Ross' book Mushima's Sword. Mishima was one of the most important 20th c Japanese novelists, who, in 1970, in a right wing protest , took a general hostage, tried to read a statement, and then committed seppuku, along with his second.
This book is a fascinating glimpse into modern Japan, the life and death of this writer, and the idea of sword and samurai.
But on the other hand, it was a bit disturbing, so I had to exorcise the ghost, so to speak. Now I need to go think of something happy)
