"Dead Moon"

"Leaves of Autumn"- Kado Fujioka

Decades of journey
Searching for my lost true love
Never left my heart

STOP in your tracks while searching
You will see others searching too
Look among those searchers very closely
One of them is searching for you.

Kado's eyes opened staring up a solid wooden cross beam that ran the length of his estate. The early morning lark was lively; spreading its jovial cheer throughout the misty early morning. He drew a deep breath through his nostrils as they flared with sudden animation. He peered up at the ceiling with the same unflinching he had given numerous men before he slew them. As he sat up from the futon, s layering of padded cotton batting in an encasement.
His long dark tresses, which had been ceaselessly tugged away from its usual very punctual styling of a long ponytail or perhaps topknot--flowed and fell upon his shoulders in the lengths. They framed his face angular face; formed around his high risen cheek bones and short but broad jaw structure. It was the same dream as before.
A vague, shadowy future. A past set in stone. He was sweating lightly, as he always had before, as he surely would tomorrow. It was almost as certain as the sun bequeathing its failing warmth in the waning hours of the evening. It was the same old feeling, with the same old sting. Guilt. Somewhere amidst the blood and ashes, he left a part of his soul a part that cried out through his dreams. Told him, he was living a lie.

He swallowed. A task he found increasingly difficult with each day. His eyes meandered, as though ambling through smoke or fog over to the more peaceful silhouette. She lie beside him, her robes somewhat parted revealing an aesthetically pleasing prospect. The gentle swell of her mounds tapering to pointed ends teased the imagination while the buxom of her hips reassured any she was ripe for sowing the seeds of familiarity. A choice he had yet to partake. He was hesitant. He didn?t want her to bear the fruit his loins when he was anything but sufficient.

Nevertheless, that was not how it appeared. Substantiating evidence to contrary was all around him. He was in reality fairly wealthy as a vassal. Yet, abstaining also caused him to fret over rather or not she saw her life meaningful without the expectations of child rearing. She had been married to him for that purpose, and in return, his name would bolster her family?s status. Did his life have a purpose beyond the killing? He wanted more than that.

Perhaps it was this yearning, rather than pure physical desire that had him lay down behind his sleeping wife. His body obviously larger than hers. He pressed a solidly built frame?years of training that had his hands calloused and well worn. Yet he slid one against his wife?s breast. The supple make of her flesh pliant under his firm hold, yet he would take to her as if to show her there was some side of him he refused to relinquish to the harsh realities of war.Her skin was warm to his touch. Her nipple, not but a softer textured area of pink hued skin. Yet with the gradual back and forth ministrations of his thumb, roused it to awakening. While his handle fondled her, she would most assuredly feel his moist but trademarked cracked lips upon her nape.

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