Out in the marsh reeds
A bird cries out in sorrow,
As though it had recalled
Something better forgotten.
~Ki No Tsurayuri (Xth century)
During this last leg of the race, I am left alone.
I am a rōnin during feudal times: a samurai who became masterless due to lost of favor.
Unending rain, but I am numbed. Nothing to do but drag my feet to move forward.
My brain feels like its pricked with a thousand pins.
According to the Code of the Samurai, I am supposed to commit hara-kiri upon the loss of my master. If not I will suffer great shame and be discriminated against by other samurai and the feudal lords.
The feudal lords are mistaken, I am sure. Other estranged warriors echoes my thoughts.
But the lords hold everything and I am left with nothing.
But the lords hold everything and I am left with nothing.
How far can a clear conscience get you?
How long can you stand to fight?
Two weeks sounds like hell. After that is a dark uncertain abyss.
La haula quwwata illa billahil 'aliyyil adzim
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