IN THE MISTS OF THE MORNING, I HAVE MET MY DEATH A samurai spirit with a blade of words, I have roamed plains of consciousness, seeking truth and slaying illusions. All is impermanent, imperfect, and incomplete. In the vast river of existence, there is a serene melancholy and a spiritual longing which pervades all. Yet all is not lost, for it is only in being lost, that we are found. It is only in imperfection, that we find perfection; in brokenness, the unbroken. We are necessarily confused, before we are clear. That which is lasting, and perfect, and beautiful surrounds us, all of the time. As a young man in Japan, I learned the great philosophy of Wabi-Sabi: rustic simplicity, quietness, and understated elegance combined with the patina of beauty and serenity that comes with age. Wisdom is to be found in natural simplicity; beauty in that which is flawed. May you find them, too, my good friend, here in these words: The Bushido Poems of a Samurai Warrior of The Spirit.