"My old Friend"

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Blog entry by frank posted 08-08-2007 12:49 PM 1158 reads 0 times favorited 3 comments Add to Favorites Watch

My Old Friend

....time suspends as i watch this moment,
while other’s carry on with an already brisk made tea,
just as i still fetch my twigs for the making of a fire,
and i knowing that soon the world out there will start to clatter….

—-been days now upon this high trail,
where the few that continue on with me,
are oft given to fits of incessant chatter,
and so i walk over behind this tree to gather my silence….

—-food runs low and water is lower,
the ones that have remained will also go on back today,
i take my pencil and trusted notepad from sacred knapsack,
and pause to shape some words that may not get read….

—-i will not yet return to those damned cities below,
what use have i of crowd birthing strangers,
those ones who care not to look you in the eye,
and stores abound to sell plastic vinyl to that flatland crowd….

—-gathering life now as from this tree behind my back,
i sketch a view that stretches out in front of me,
mountains were made for men caring not to share their solitude,
just as these birches break ground with scraggy pine….

—-i pause now for my half ration of daily tea,
as i sip the herbs and water mixed within this cup,
feeling inspired-intoxicated my pencil so begins to pick up pace,
while the visions i see are carried forth to paper….

—-what use is the sky if men will not see the trees,
what care i for wood if i cannot feel your grains,
working faster now i labor to create a felt image on this paper,
as imagination gives birth to many likened images….

—-the days have past with healing to my mind,
just as i found water the day before last,
all who came have long since re-turned to base camp,
and i shall continue here beside this mountain lake a few days more….

—-my feet are steady now with the rhythm of mountain air,
just as i know that i too will once again re-turn,
i have tasted the smell of opened heavens cooked upon a mountain quest,
within these seasons of my life….

—-my canoe awaits for me,
back down the twisted path,
as now i place the pencil-notebook,
back within the sacred canvas sack….

—-what is a life if one cannot suspend and step outside of time,
just as this mountain calls my name and bids me to come again,
and i knowing that i shall yet come this way once more,
will not say goodbye but hello till we meet again…. old friend is a mountain older than i,
we spend days to-gether without the need of words,
his shadow crosses mine in height of sun at break of midday,
till by the glow of sunset i know the silence of moments blest

Thank you.

”....i never knew a piece of wood that would not look me in the eye, or a tree that could not be counted on to give me a time of day, so yes one day i shall walk out of these crowded spaces, and re-turn forever beside that mountain lake….”

-- --frank, NH,

3 comments so far

View PanamaJack's profile


4483 posts in 4046 days

#1 posted 08-08-2007 03:56 PM

Wonderful writings Frank! Thanks.

-- Carpe Lignum; Tornare Lignum (Seize the wood, to Turn the wood)

View Steffen's profile


326 posts in 4004 days

#2 posted 08-08-2007 06:33 PM

This is beautiful Frank. You took me back to Bellingham WA and to the foot of Mt. Baker…Thank you.

-- Steffen - Kirkland, WA

View woodspar's profile


710 posts in 4068 days

#3 posted 08-08-2007 06:39 PM

Please post the drawing if possible!

Mountain air clears the head, a solo saunter clears the heart.

-- John

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