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A hundred battles is moot, compared to the night, Cold and ruthless, the shadows, they far from delight, Inside dances instincts that refuse to bend, A warm tent, crispy fowl, and campfire to mend, Dangerous are those whos abilities go unseen, Victory rewarded to those with senses most keen, Firm are these skills that helped avoid defeat, Knowledge refined at a wilderness retreat, How silent must an enemy be, To avoid the crunching leaves of a tree, A dozen thugs and bandits rushed from the north, What came next made them question life's worth, Arrows flies forth, tipped off by a whistle, Only to encounter a blade flurry, instant dismissal Snap, pop, crackle, goes the traps, Toxins take hold, all at once, a dozen naps, How careless can the enemy be, When I am the weapon they can not see, How silence is and always will be, the enemy, -Yogi | |