After hammering love for the last few days, I am ready to go to war . . . in a previous life?
Years ago, a friend who taught a college course on fencing, introduced me to the foil, the epee, the rapier and to a lesser degree, the sabre. Oddly enough, their use came naturally to me. Within a few lessons, I was able to defeat some of his advanced students. From the time I was twelve, I owned bows and arrows. Their use also came easily. I also love the sea, a prerequisite to being a Cancer (Moon Child), but never had the chance to go to sea in a sailing vessel. That adventure has never been more that a flight of fancy.
by Mike Patrick
Some may think me strange,
But a sword fits my hand.
The steel sings as it hilt grows warm,
And it takes on a life of its own.
An extension of myself,
Only more perfect and better designed
For the art of war.
The bow too comes easy to my grasp.
The slow, easy draw of an arrow
Feels as natural as breathing.
It flies true with no effort.
A slender messenger of death,
Yet comfortable in my hand.
Always I feel the pull of the sea.
It’s like a lover’s call.
Soft and warm,
Yet with a hint of danger.
The deck of a ship lies easy against my feet.
The creak of the rigging is music.
A sword, a bow, and a ship;
Indeed, a strange combination
For modern man.
Oh to know of past lives I’ve led,
Of other seas I have sailed;
Of battles I have fought.
Maybe a knowledge of yester-lives
Would bring a faith in tomorrow.
Until I have that knowledge,
I’ll feel the steel sing,
I’ll hear the bow twang,
Listen to the sea’s roar,
I’ve been here before.