a reply to:
1XKINET0
A leaf falls from the tree and settles slowly onto the crimson snow.
Last night there was noise, fear and death.
Today the snow is clean except for a patch that is crimson beneath the overhanging boughs of a tree.
The young samurai lies dead decapitated lying there with a halo of red were head used to be but if you look closer you see that it is not a man but a
young woman dressed as a Samurai her head a few feet away hair loose in a black fan around it abandoned by the head hunter whom in shock had realized
too late his crime for here was the daughter of his Lord.
She had run away and hidden among the common soldiers wanting to join her father in the battle against his rival, a battle the Lord had won but this
head hunter in his greed had slain her when she was alone, she whom he had mistakenly thought to be one of the petty soldiers of his own sides army to
make up for his lack of trophy heads to present to his Lord.
For whom would know which side it was from as after all a head was a head and it was only his claim that they were the heads of the enemy that
mattered but as he had stood looking at her head to inspect it and seeing the truth as he turned the pretty face to look into it's dead eye's he had
dropped it in shock and fled.
So there she stared her large black eyes open in shock, her hair fallen loose, her pale beauty now dead like the leaf that had fallen next to it in
the bitter snow of the crime.
Honour even among they whom thought themselves the most honourable was often a lie as indeed it often is among the narcissistic that claim they are
better than others around them, cruel to there captives, cruel to there own people and without right of birth or having earned the right killing the
poor on a whim or if the poor did not bow in fear of them such was feudal japan at times in it's history, a time that gave rise to some clan's of the
Ninja to fight against the evil Ronin and even full samurai that often terrorized and plagued the people.
To have honour one must live, one must face with courage the problem's that seem to be unclimbable that seem to be impossible and overcome them.
It is NOT how a person fall's that defines them and suicide is never the answer but simply a giving up, a surrender the most dishonourable of all
thing's.
NO it is how a person get's back up that defines them.
No one wrote a Haiku for the young woman, a peasant after looting her corpse eventually buried her after the army had moved on and they picked up
what was left of there own lives, along with the body's of many other's left to rot by the victors of that battle, one of many forgotten tales from a
dark time not only there but in much of the world.
And the Lord, well he never knew what had befallen his daughter of even that she had stolen away among his soldiers.
The man who killed her lived to a ripe old age leaving many descendants to hide his lie and dishonour while better men lay dead in the dirt.
Life is NOT a fairy tale, thing's go bad, good people lose, bad people win and the world is ruled by evil men.
But still we hope for a better world to come.
The true Haiku will never stop being written, it is called life and yet among this darkness there is light, among the weed's a flower made all the
more precious by it's rarity on occasion blooms.
edit on 3-8-2022 by LABTECH767 because: (no reason given)