Cut. It means only one thing, and everything: cut. Once committed to fight, cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is my duty, my purpose, my hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut.
The lines are a portrayal of the dance with death. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resolutely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don’t allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depths of his spirit. It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death. The dance with death is art, art expressed through a blade.
