_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

As soon as Mark sat under a tree's shade, his ken (understanding) leapt by leaps and bounds. His understanding with his sword had reached its limits, or so it seemed, because whenever he tried to understand more about the way of his sword, something fragile seemed to be blocking his way.

It felt extremely easy to break through; it even seemed to be within his reach, yet the reach seemed to be infinity long.

When he gained his enlightenment just recently, the blockage broke, shattered into pieces. Thereafter, nothing really changed except for him feeling light headed whenever he swung his sword.

Ideas and thoughts on how to improve his sword slashes further, constantly appeared in his mind, making it harder for him to complete even a single slash that dealt the most damage amidst of his train of thoughts which were numbered in trillions.

Comprehension.