Turning A Page In Life….
….can we define the moment that wood took hold,
can i fathom the canker i have be-come within my woods,
who can understand that time when light exposed pine,
and color bore witness to the heavens under which we lived….
….i have walked in silence before the trees of these woods,
where i shunned the teachings that came from noisy man,
after all what is man but a creature of manifold knottiness,
sent on his ways by the opinions he ply’s daily in secret temples….
….yes i even now re-member those temples in which i toiled,
where night and day i was soiled by having to please the lords,
concrete-asphalt-plastic-steel-all straight from depths of hell,
till one day i saw my chance to break out of their guarded box….
….i ran from the city being grate-full to escape their watch-dogs,
and so i stumbled into the hands of the far north wood’s kingdom,
un-sure of the way that was laid be-fore me i came giving thanks,
for-getting those things i left behind likened after an empty shell….
….what i carried within me were words written long ago before the ages,
words that the sages of yesterday spoke often but now lay for-gotten,
those words were but my sense of timing in that i had aged beyond,
and so out here in my woods i awakened to the singing of the trees….
….if one wishes to hear the wisdom found in the forest of woods,
then listen for the singing found where two trees rub each other,
like when the wind is caressing two tall pines to bring their color out,
and yet there is sadness from in knowing the price that was paid….
….when i talk of singing the songs out in these woods of wood tales,
then comes the stories that i gather from walking to and fro the land,
and then the questions i have to ask and ponder are answered in time,
can a man really live with-out a song or a story that makes up his life….
....one thing i know is that fermented and stagnant tales just won’t do here,
one must rise each and every day and greet the day as if it be the only one,
when my hands start working the wood more and more i can value the meanin’,
meanings at times like these get all gummed and sapped up till i move on….
….in times as these i have learned that life is like one who is planning on wood,
where-as i used to go about my planning by working on the ‘push’ stroke,
i have now come to find that all my labors are much better when I use the ‘pull’,
shavings now come across as more of a re-fined character in the wood i free….
….and as i walk these ways that keep me in tune with the heart of wood and trees,
i can hear the great spirit of the woods singing and calling me to come and feast,
for there is feast for all those who can come and listen in silence to take back home,
while back home in the freedom of my workshop i can once again sing a new song….
….i have sang the songs where my imagination turned loose the actions of inspiration,
but never have i had to fight a dis-ease of hepatikos re-membered such as faces me now,
in times such as these the dark clouds overshadow my days and the demons watch,
my hands are often silent and i feel as though i am losing my way in this great forest….
….some come-some go-some appear-some disappear but i feel as though nonextant,
too many things in my life right now and so I turn to my friends the trees who give hope,
all i once held in esteem has since been removed and yes the lessons i now am learning,
what matters most in life is not the battles i have won but more so the kindness i give….
....even now beyond the pieces of wood art i sell i have started giving away my treasures,
recently here i have deleted all my wood projects since why hold onto what is in my past,
if i can-not create new of wood art then i shall be most happy in being free of all things,
i am finding that my heart can stop clinging for more till now i learn to empathize life….
….some-times in life one needs to stop and turn the page to start a-new writing their stories,
stories and songs of the wood can be into new areas that give character and meanings,
by giving away all these old tales i am found naked till i go out and clothe my-self again,
but there again is the lie since who told i that he was naked but the feelings of dis-ease….
….i came here to earth by a birth naked-naked i shall re-turn to my place of before birth,
all my things i have gathered here i shall leave behind just as this dis-ease that stalks me,
yes i shall still fight yet into the eyes of death that have no-power except the lie of self,
the lie of self is the power of the illusion that i had a right to clothe my-self with things….
….hope that i am not loosing any-one here but again i must take the time and turn a page,
one can loose all things in life but let no-one come and take your songs and many stories,
my songs give me a link with these woods and with the trees that whisper my name calling,
i can give all i can to full-fill the needs of other’s but that which i need is a cure beyond….
….turn the page and go deep within the confines of what only you can see as emptiness,
there one will find a way in their dark night of soul that can be the turning point in going on,
i still work the wood and more often than naught i now find that the wood is workin’ my way,
this way of wood is one that i re-member as having chosen from before beginnings of time….
”….work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood....”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/