There comes a moment in armed skirmish, whether facing Man, Mer or beast, when you know that your next strike is to be the killing blow.  It is but a terse moment in time, a moment when all the tumult of fervid emotions and frenzied sensitivities are drowned out by silence.  A moment of glorious lucidity, and almost perfect clarity that lasts but barely the span of a sharp intake of breath.

I find I now crave these moments… and when they come… it is a relief. 

Where else is a man like me to find peace from the ceaseless torrent that grinds and sears at the empty space where my soul should nest?

S.K