It’s dangerous to walk around with a restless heart. One misguided step, one innocent fall, one broken bone, and suddenly, I am no longer devoted to truth.
To avoid looking at my own steps, I start to point fingers.
It feels like a good idea, at first, to lean into somebody and to rid myself of the embarrassment, alongside the rage.
But I hold this sword in my hand.
It’s heavy, they’re deadly –
its menacing blades.
Their precision is frightening,
they will strike like lightning,
and this hot-headed hero in the making
will not only stumble,
but make far more dangerous mistakes.
Spirit of Tara 