Bushido Poem by Lazarus Knix

The chaos that is spawned from war,
Has left our soldiers stained and marred,
With crimson hearts of false ardor,
Blanketed by a ravenous storm,
Of calamity and flaming passion.

The sword is now the diplomat,
The poets are irrelevant,
And wisdom but an amber mist
Shrouded by the amethyst
Of warring clans battle cries.
(That crack the blood drenched midnight sky)

And as this culture drowns itself,
In a sea of blind fury for war,
So must we protect ourselves
Through the creation of a sacred code
That shall be named- Bushido.

A single author, there can’t be,
For the pens of wisemen run empty,
So we pass this knowledge down to down,
Of chivalry and chaste renown,
Of honor, knowledge, and sacred zen.

This is a call of arms to good
To understand as understood,
To know thy self a moral being,
To keep peace in the blade you’re wielding,
To progress as a river runs,
Yet never fear what is to come,
This is a Samurai’s unknown ode,
That shall be christened -Bushido.