XVII

Weary, we turned in when we reached the house
suspending further discourse for the next night.

Though we talked of him, it was my turn to speak
digging at the roots of his malady for the source.

As long as I'd known him, I'd seen he was in pain, seeking proof
that he could measure to the standard of the Passion Play.

I told him it was time to let the hurting die.  That the Way
of the Blade was not about wounding or killing,

rather, a honing of the self that precluded needless violence. 
I reminded him of words he'd often spoken in the past:

"It is the master who turns his back on a fight,
who knows his own strength & has nothing to prove".

I asked if he could not believe that he could be the master
& in bringing my cauldron to his blade, I found my own answers.

At dawn we smoked from his medicine pipe, offering to the four
directions.  He'd supplied crisis, I, calm, & both absorbed the lesson.

All the banter & chatter over merging blade & chalice fell away then.
Accuracy is in actions.  Hold to both ways & observe discretion.