Since today is someone’s birthday, the Ninja Column has decided to dedicate a poem to our sister at the Underground Energy blog, Lisa O. Please forgive the metaphorical (or is it?) blood and gore, but remember that it is hardly possible for the ninja clans to release a post without it. My hands are tied.
This post is also dedicated to those who do the hard jobs that no one else wants to do, and to anyone who likes to play with fire on a consistent basis.
The Twins of Fire
To grasp in love the mission, grasp its wing
To find in love the meaning, driving far
With love and hate curled in but sword’s one swing
To cut you off yet graft you, terror’s scar
The blade forgiving not, and not its edge,
The season halting not for moment’s wake,
To kill, or even heal, the option bled,
The spurting blood, the choice, pronounced, to make
To die or live, a ransom posted hot
With flowing iron, sugar, spring of earth
To cherish, loath, conjoined in simple swath
The twins of fire, gained in single birth
This rage, the same as love, since love must hate,
But true love, hated, loves without the sate
The Ninja Column 