And so on a day much clearer
air not muddied by time and trial,
the tide in its rhythm,
when seasons come and seasons go,
children grow without fear,
tears are only those of joy,
then, perhaps,
the world will no longer
need Aikido,
for its mission
will have come to fruition.
But the days of many are not clear
air grows stale in many ports,
the tide laps not gently
upon all shores,
and seasons,
while coming and going
as always they do,
do so in ways
seeming sometimes capriciously malicious;
children do grow in fear
real fear born
of troubles they neither understand
or should have to care about,
and tears are
more often than not
tears of pain and grief.
The vision of the Master
has yet to come to pass,
though but a drop
of rain in a vast hollow,
enough drops falling will
fill the hollow and create a sea.
The promise of Aikido
may yet see the light
of a day
breaking upon a world
unfettered of strife
and conflict born of fear.
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