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    <strong>Prologue</strong>


    [Originally tranted by metwin1]


    <i>Is the horizon far away?</i>


    <i> Not at all!</i>


    <i> Man is at the horizon, how can the horizon be far away?</i>


    <i>What colour is the bright moon?</i>


    <i> It is blue; and like the ocean, blue, deep and sorrowful.</i>


    <i>Where is the bright moon?</i>


    <i> It is in his heart; his heart is the bright moon.</i>


    <i>What about his sabre?</i>


    <i> His sabre is in his hand!</i>


    <i> What kind of de is that?</i>


    <i> His sabre is as broad and as lonely as the horizon, as pure and sorrowful as the bright moon; even with a sh of steel, some times it is as if it is empty.</i>


    <i>Empty?</i>


    <i> Empty and illusional, as if it never exists, yet present everywhere.</i>


    <i> But the speed of his sabre does not appear to be very swift.</i>


    <i> How can a sabre that is not swift be invincible under the heavens?</i>


    <i> This is because his sabre has gone beyond the limits of speed!</i>


    <i>Where is he?</i>


    <i> He has not returned, but his heart is already broken.</i>


    <i> Where is the path of his return?</i>


    <i> The path is right in front of him.</i>


    <i> Cannot he see the path?</i>


    <i> He is not looking for it.</i>


    <i> So he cannot find the path?</i>


    <i> Perhaps not now, but he will find it sooner orter.</i>


    <i> Willl he find it for sure?</i>


    <i> Definitely!</i>


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