Reverend Wood: Updates
....and so such is this passing of a way,
that i am become the instilled voice of all that is written within,
as to the coming of my many ages lived inside this cache,
till comes the oneness of all knowing as shadowed between this partition of glassy berlin….
—-have you seen the such as i,
where in your dreams of forest tales from hearts of wood,
there comes the dragging sounds of lumber chains before your eye,
and will some still continue on as playing roles while in your sight a phantom stood…..
—-swing softly the beckoning blade of this thou broadax,
where as you do the reality of moment vibrates thou inner being,
as if thou wast some behemoth of an african addax,
still dated to tasting the waters of life while next comes seeing….
—-and such was i as i gathered the many apparitions,
all the time knowing that i was one such as they,
until from the soft terra lichen felted down of making transitions,
the wooden branchlets of understanding joy-full ‘wood joinery’ became my cliché….
are the terminology of encrypted word gathering wordsmith’s,
as the day breaks clean and crisp across the joinery lines of grace-fullness,
and i am re-newed in the ground work of knowing how to be a woodsmith….
“One of the remarkable things about wood is its self-expression. Whether as the handle of a tool, as a dead stump, or alive in a forest where every branch is a record of the winds that blew, it is always telling something about itself. This is why man has affinity with wood not only as a mere material, but also as a kindred spirit to live with and to know. The children of a century ago were expert at knowing trees and their characteristics; they grew up thinking of trees as having human qualities and almost Druidlike, they tried to acquire the qualities of trees. A man might be as ‘strong as an oak’, or ‘bend like a willow’; if he had proper ‘timber’, he’d become all the stronger from the winds of adversity.” —by Eric Sloane; A Reverence For Wood and chapter: The Warehouse
More from ‘Secret Garden’ at house of the vale, where silence is a study in the art of merging in with the all that surrounds me….
....where in the early morning sun-light….
....i had a chance to pause, till evening’s shadows came cascading along my way….
....and in tis place of perfect gratitude, i stopped and tilted my head upwards to the beauty of the trees, those ancient ones who whispered the wisdom of the ages….
....looking different in the grace-full glow of morning lichen’s face ….
....i was still counting my blessings, as evening shadows jarred me to an awakening of my place….
”....all that is found in my before beginning, was the remembrance of all that i am, and so in passing this way through forest glens, i remembered the art-full taste of ‘wood art’….”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/