In the midst of the risk of chaos touching the soul, there sits a lone man. A man of old age that is in his own cage of peace far into the east with his koto at his side. Hidden in a world filled with troubled minds, and troubled souls. His fingers gently touch the twenty-five strings instrument, each chord
with access to another melodic chain. He lightly plays a chain
of notes that create a hypnotic melody that vibrates off into the snowy air. A pleasant scene of peace, as the music tells of passed stories of glory, that intertwines with a lost love. A gentle pluck here and a simple pause there
turns this song into a delightful melody to the ears to hear. The state of balance can be seen in his eyes, as his glare dances off into the white sky… His mind drifts into a rift in time, where samurais would clash steal. Feeling a sense of honor within every strike, an ancient world that strives to heal
with honor. A balance of right and wrong carried out by the blade, the instrument of justice in an injustice world. Yet lost in the past, time changes but the music he plays remain untouched by corrupt hands. The sand of time holds his notes with every grain of time that passes through the hourglass of life.
This simple tone that shares this chaotic time with a fresh coat of
snow on the grass, a white paradise for the world to see. A sea of snow cap mountains, encage this old musician to play his worldly lullaby into this cold scene.
But his fingers shake the coldness away as his passion keeps him
in gentle action to entertain nature itself with a simple tone he calls… Home…
