The Feminine Principle


Image source: @litguru

The sword in his hand was covered in dust. He ran his fingers along the blade and saw his reflection on the polished steel. A few lines on the edge of his eyes betrayed his otherwise youthful demeanor. His hair was still thick and dark, but several white strands entwined in the long locks that fell about his shoulder.

Favoured son
Turn in the garden
Shades of one
Sins forgotten

After wiping the blade, he stood in the middle of the room and swung it vigorously. Unused muscles and tendons came alive. He stepped forward and backward, parrying against an invisible enemy. His movements were swift, but his steps were not as sure as they once had been. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. Pulling back his arm, he then thrust forward into the empty air.

Through the window, he heard voices and women's laughter. Approaching it, he saw the town girls on their way to the market. They carried baskets and a few children in tow. The grip on his sword loosened as he watched the girls playfully walk down road, laughing and talking loud while the sun shone bright on their hair.

Favoured signs to find hope
In the rounds of life
Favoured rhymes to find hope
In the sands of life

He would soon have to wield his sword in the field of battle once more. Looking at the girls on the street, his heart ached with the knowledge that he might not make it back. He might never feel the touch of a woman again; the warmth of her embrace and her kisses. He could run away to another realm and seek shelter there. Settle down and find a wife. But what right would he have to call himself a man, to possess a wife, if he could not even defend the fields of his home?

The girls disappeared down the road.

He shook his head and withdrew from the window. When he was younger, he had relished the thought of battle. Now, he wasn't so sure. There was much left undone, and he no longer felt the need to prove himself to anyone. The glories of battle no longer enticed him. Not that he had any choice in the matter. The enemies of the empire had taken it away.

He gripped his sword, muscles taut along the length of his arm, then with a grunt, he swung it towards the vase on the table. The blade glinted in the sunlight and sliced the stem of the single flower in the container. The decapitated flower fell to the floor and a few petals on the bed.

Outside, the horns began blowing in the wind.

Favoured son
Fence in your heart
Savored son
Sins forgotten

Lyrics by Dead Can Dance~ Rakim

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