The verse

Sheathe the blade till dew hangs thick at dusk,read the tide's plain word: the moon rides east.Draw only when the marketplace hums full of voices,loose your stroke downwind, and strive with none.

Reading

This slip bids you sheathe the blade and watch the hour: strike when voices throng, not against the tide. The right moment reveals itself; the outcome is never promised.

The temple keeper adds

A kind sign. The god nodded — small, but real.

[ Draw another at the temple ][ Keep a traffic omamori ]