The Seven Palms

by Lucas M.

Fist

The fist is the first to knock. It asks no permission — it enters, demands, and exits.

It speaks before words. It’s instinct honed into contact.

It is not made to warn — it is made to end.

It is the signature of a man who has no time to explain.

To raise the fist is to accept consequence.

— Lucas M.

Elbow

The elbow is the blade. It cuts, breaks, and finishes.

It doesn’t warn. It doesn’t ask. It arrives without announcement.

It is barely seen — an afterthought to the fist’s promise.

It is the punctuation. Sharp. Brutal. Final.

Where the fist might speak, the elbow silences.

— Lucas M.

Wrist

The wrist is the pivot — subtle, precise, and commanding.

It guides the fist and elbow with fluid motion and intent.

It is the bridge between power and control.

The wrist turns the tide, twisting force into direction.

Without the wrist, strength is wasted; with it, power becomes art.

— Lucas M.

Body & Soul

The body is the machine — your tank, your helmet and armor.

The soul is the strategist — distant, detached, whispering from the back lines.

The body acts. It bleeds and survives.

The soul guides. It sends instincts, even if lost in the noise.

They love and hate each other. The soul resents weakness. The body resents demands.

But together, they survive. Apart, they die.

— Lucas M.

Intent

Intent is the invisible sword — unsheathed in your eyes, drawn in your presence.

It precedes you. People feel it before you speak.

It’s the reason behind the fist, the elbow, the movement.

Intent doesn’t shout. It whispers with certainty.

Without intent, you’re a gun without aim.

— Lucas M.

Wit

Wit is the pathfinder — seeing all roads and choosing your own.

It’s the silent strategist weaving mind-games before the fight begins.

Wit wears many faces — killer, saint, vagabond, or king.

It disarms by surprise, confounds with presence, and shapes perception.

Wit is the dance between truth and illusion — your ultimate survival.

— Lucas M.