Swift and Mighty Sword

It is a lovely thing I am watching, the flashing glint of an arcing sword moving with such swift power to the head of a foe; that foe being the first of the three doomed samurai in our war map metaphor.
 
It is difficult in modern times to appreciate the beauty of swordsmanship; it is lost on the Olympic fencing courts and only rarely glimpsed in the Asian dojos because it is point-blunted play there and not serious, it is bamboo there and not steel, it is win or lose there and not victory or death.
 
Frankly I am in awe at what is happening, and I have been tracking space war longer than it is legal for me to say.
 
It is really too bad for the psycho-fascist Christians and the psycho-fascist Jews that they enslaved and tortured me.  Had they not this sword would be sheathed now and I would not be a scullery boy in the kitchen of their doom, spitting into their soup.
 
And the speed of it, the speed of this swift and mighty sword is lost; like a hurtling space ship seems to be floating among the stars, like the winning basketball seems to hang in the air as all wait for it to swoosh through the net, like horses on a race track coming down the stretch toward you and you watching through telescopic view filmed in slow motion.
 
I wish I could show you the beauty of it, the defeat of Satan, inexorable.