....facing the dawn,
this re-curring dream,
seeks to implode upon my horizontal vision,
and i having only two hands start working again….
—-were it not for the silence that so surrounds me,
i would be tempted to turn on a machine,
since by the familiar sounds of a motors running dialogue,
can the equations of wood time be speeded up somewhat….
—-but not this dawn,
as my hand reaches for the broadax,
this morning i will make my peace with this piece of wood,
as i first stop and taste the feel of cold steel….
—-i give thanks for the dawn,
for herein lies the breaking crack of the veil,
that separates the darkness of night,
from the warming light of coming day….
—-i create in the very good inspiration of dawn,
where silence now is rhythmically broken by re-sounding thuds,
just as now i look upon this maple log,
that rejoices in her soon to be coming out….
—-were it not for the silence which precedes the thud,
i would be overtaken at noise pollution,
but out here in the floor space of barn wood,
i work as having not even turned the lights on yet….
—-candles cast a shadow before the breaking dawn,
my hand tools are older than the eye of i,
and who knows if i shall have the time to finish this art-full log,
since time carries a stronger broadax in it’s own hand….
——reaching now to face my dawn,
i place this dream back inside my chest for rest,
the years have been faith-full with the singing sounds of patience,
and once again i give thanks in completing my downward swing….
....dawn carries a face all it’s own,
just as before coming awake,
i looked in the mirror to see your face,
now there comes the sounds of dawn….
”....if it were not for this second of wood-full grace, my oneness would be in need of freakin’ out, since before the sound of eternities watch-full eye, i saw the all of many creations of what is now ‘wood art’….”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/