I was born a fighter; a fact I've known since I could speak.
Conflicts arise throughout the years and must be dealt with.
Raised in a family whose legacy is derived from weaponry and the fighting arts.
An attempt to instill ancient knowledge into a silly child, did in time succeed.
For life pushed him as he did push back or a slave to it he did become.
Such a legacy to uphold with vast pressures to appease.
The one boy wonders if it all can be done to the need.
Doubt is commonly present in the later days and leads to such troubling thoughts.
How can a fight raise his fists to life's gauntlet, with such troubling phantoms beckoning his ear?
One wonders like we do; as we trouble ourselves with such specters.
But the boy remembered the legacy of the warrior and the advice it provided him.
In his heart he remembered his grandfathers words.
"dear boy, during my many years in this world. I too came to understand what it meant to fight as a warrior but as a wise one. Life will do all it can t