Sword master

When this sword is draw it must make a cut, this is tradition
But the cut it makes is not in the flesh
It cuts away at image to reveal character

This sword is perfection
It is beyond measure
It is unreal
A contradiction, yet still a truth

In my hand I hold no sword
This is my sword, in a way
The empty hand
The empty mind, clear and reflective

Expression is mans greatest gift
Not only to the world, but to his self
Sometimes the world is not ready, but mastery is never wasteful
It is the harvest which never fails

If I cannot tell you of my satori, how will I know if I have known satori?
Or is satori beyond all expression
One cannot bind what is not made for binding
So all things must be just as they are