Bushido

 (a gen-x sonnet)                  
       
As falling snow finds deeper fallen peace,    
Reflecting glass, in only fire arrayed,    
His body weak, a paunch of life’s increase,    
Yet every scar a map of campaigns’ made,    
             
Stripped from his silken robes and courtly face,    
His old sword's curve, familiar leathers bind,    
He slashes years with studied fencer’s grace,    
Exacting moves – one body, blade, and mind.    
            
His ministary halls seem distant now,    
He binds his youthful wounds in common clothes.    
With common sword, he prays a common vow,    
He’ll die no common death of common woes.    
            
  He walks in night, forsaking lordly will,  
  An end that honors, true Bushido's skill.