The Empty Hand seeking Ultimate Truth

Bare soles of our feet
like how we bare our souls when we meet
in victory or defeat
we seek
The Ultimate Truth

Through mastery of self
Consequentially through the enhancement of our health
through long stances and short
through muscle, through thought

This is far more than just a sport

This is where we bring our weakness
where pain greets us
and we respond with a smile
this is where, for a while,
all that matters is moving Forward
This is where our limits become cowards
and our kiai’s become monsters
bearing up arms like soldiers
chasing them away

This is where french feet greet cheeks with kisses
and five finger fists become free two-knuckle masseuses
This is where shins become sword and shield
cutting down thighs till they buckle and yield
This is where knees, don’t kneel,
and where feet don’t end in heels
this is where the empty hand wields
the most devastating weapon of all

The entirety of one’s being

This Dojo is a garden
where we blossom
Where we stand tall, like white Oak trees
in bloody, battle worn red, white Gi’s
beaten and bruised but by no means broken
Arigatou the only words spoken
for we are thankful for what we’ve just been through
Like diamonds are thankful for their crucible
we come out pure and wear that flag over our hearts
The pursuit of the Ultimate truth
making for the ultimate martial art

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