Revolutionary Heart: The Genius of Sword

A lil short story I put together, more along the lines of a monologue or soliloquy; I forget which is what. 'Doesn't really go anywhere, but it feels like it, so I think you'll enjoy it. 'Sorta fictional; very educational, therefore relevant.

I fantasize a lot; sue me...

As I lay awake, so restless within, the air was still. Stale. My chest was heavy, burdened with thought and anticipation. I could remain in the covers no longer.

I sat upon my bed, head beneath the sight of the moon, face drenched in a sweaty type of gloom. An airy nightshirt and some light pants only, I moved toward the door. Finding my clan members asleep, so serene in the throes of the nightman that takes us to our dreams, I took up my sword. For I had an appointment with this nightman of dreams as well; we had many things to discuss.

I slipped out of the door, leaving it only half open so that the closing would not rouse my clan. The draft may eventually wake them; if so, let them try to find me. I wouldn't be found.

Into the forests of secrecy I plunged. Feeling like some animal in search of his society, I darted in the darkness. Upon reaching the familiar spot, I stopped. I felt my mind calling out, ever-so cautious not to utter a word for fear of detection. My mind fired, so loudly that my thoughts escaped me.

So when I heard, "You've come," from behind me, my heart exploded for an instant. Turning to witness the source of the voice, it exploded once more. I rushed to greet her, taking her by the hands, kissing them, kissing her cheek. Never letting go, I took her, and we sifted the darkness in silence and haste.

Searching for the blaze in the thicket, the damp air, coupled with the night, seemed to blanket the entire scene from my view. But I could feel the glint of the orange glow in my eyes; the passion and angst of souls ready for a change. I would be there in their midst; nothing on this Earth would stop me from being there. The subtle clamor of voices lay before us, each voice bringing a power all its own to the gathering. As the fireflies gravitated to the pyre, I understood that the purpose of darkness was to accent the significance of the light.

Stepping into the clearing, my companion following adjacent, the gathered changed the direction of their speech to us. Friends, compatriots, well-wishers--- the heartbeat of a revolution was here. Head nods in the direction of a small meeting hall just beyond the fire showed us the way, and we entered with our kindred in step with us.

At the table, we sat at once. All of us. I wasted no time in rising again.

"Today, there was no one who came to rescue us out of our misery. Tomorrow, who knows... But yesterday we wondered what tomorrow would bring; we discovered today that tomorrow had nothing in store....

The future has never come out of thin air. It is change that creates that phenomenon that we refer to as time. If the planets did not rotate and revolve--- if the hands on the clock did not count--- then we would live in a still frame of now and never. Can you see it? To wait, and to talk, and to wait, and to talk... it profits us nothing. Only the cause and effect changes the time...

In the morning, our respective peoples will awaken and make preparations. In the night, the beasts will come again, and take away those things most precious to us: our homes, our wives, our children, our crops, our very lives. And we'll cry. We'll cry our rivers back to health. We'll cry our oppressors into utter deafness. We'll cry ourselves into a dry submission. All the crying in the world will change nothing. And yet, we'll cry.

But I promise you, I won't cry tomorrow. Pity is for the powerless. For those who have power, and forfeit it out of fear--- fear of the unknown, fear of flight, fear of defeat, fear of breaking with tradition--- I have only disdain.

Tomorrow, whether I am one or one-hundred, I will defend myself against the invaders. Losing my life? What life is there when one's entire existence is in the fear of death? The misery of oppression? The agony of defeat? I have no life to lose; only life to gain.

"Kwietfire," I said, turning to my companion, "everyone here in this grand gathering needs to know that I love you. I love you dearly... and because I love you so much, I will never see our common enemy take you away from me. The way of this land and its peoples, to bow down to the will of its invading enemies, dies tonight. And I declare that, after we are victorious, no longer will our peoples be separate; we will all come under the umbrella of liberators to our respective nations. And to mark this coming together of the nations, Kwietfire... when this is done, I would like for you to be my bride. Whether of my nation or not, there is no other woman I would rather have to be with me as I journey through this life."

This was my resolve.

Strange that, as I said this, my sword in its sheath seemed to speak to me. Amid the thunderous response of the hall, "Well done," found its way to my mind and heart in an affirmation. I could only imagine what my sentient sword held in its mind. But I knew that the sentiment was kind and altruistic. Pure.

I drew the sword. The hall fell silent.

"The genius of this sword is that it was shapen in its purpose. When you know your purpose, you can fulfill it. And you can fulfill it optimally. Everyone here has this part to play; shape your mind to it. We are not here for combat; we are not glad gladiators. We are here to do what is required to liberate one another; and if that requires fighting then, yes, we'll fight. We will engage in battle to win FREEDOM... not to win battles."

A silence not of confusion, but of realization, burdened the hall. Stern gazes and nods from the body at large encouraged me.

"Do we have UNDERSTANDING? Understand that we are NOT stronger than our enemy. But PURPOSE... that will be our advantage. As they come in their ravenous hordes to gratify themselves, that same selfishness will divide them. It is then not our strength, but our singularity of purpose that will give us the advantage over them. I fight for you, you fight for me; no honor to the man who fights for himself."