Screeching Laughter of Owly Wood
....wherefore comes this walking waunderer of zenith’s quest,
with feet planted firmly bearing azimuth’s best,
north was my starting till i touched 90 degree at east,
and then i finished by coming full circle with accumulated zest….
—-if i should ever stop,
in this well-full driven purpose of eating frenzy,
as to what i have be-come,
then pay no-attention to what i might have been,
and know that for sure my spirit has taken flight,
where my others now wel-come me homeward,
and what remains is only the shell of what i gave up….
—-freely i came into this world,
while just as free so shall i depart,
bearing no-thing against an-other which would only add weight,
for since the doors of heavenly attitude swing both ways,
what gives me the right to conscript an attitude of what might have been….
—-i write freely now since there is no-pressure on my brain,
and the sketches that i soon shall make in wood,
are but the reliefs of some long ago forgotten past,
what is as wood to the tree has be-come meat for feeding my soul,
though it want be long till that too has ended,
for in this experience of living as now,
i soon shall meet my other who longs to take my place….
—-call to that which listens within,
and know of a certainty that that which lies within will hear,
but discern the times and seasons of ones own being,
for in a twinkling moment the what lies within may come knocking at one’s door….
....it was in the nocturnal dreams of landscaping night,
that the forest came alive with screeching laughter of owly woods,
and all that was be-fore has now be-come my open heaven,
while in my eye of one i see my completed story of all that i am….
My days are filled with the stories of the night shadows that come to life in the awakening dawn. I have long ago from my past of early years, developed the habit of greeting the dawn before the soon to be coming light splits the night into….in-two….and so this morning I await the glory that soon shall fill my head. My hands wait patiently to record this event upon a piece of oaken wooden burl, that longs to taste the sharpness of my carving gouge. Inspiration is the highest noble act that a creator has to offer upon his creation, till in the understanding of wisdom, which has been filtered down, comes an awareness of this gifting that resides within my being.
Long ago and too many ages of past, I stopped along the way of my life and decided it was time to let the world go on by. What matters most, is not what comes from sharing my vision in the avenues of common place marketeers. This is where the dealers of making change, full-fill their needed role, to the many coming through temple gates for sacrificial offerings. And so with no-taste for being made merchandise of, I overturned their tables….
....ah yes, that was then and this is now. So my heart is filled with the goodness that no-man can disturb and my hands give life to these sculptures of wood. Sculptures of wood filled with life….life begats life and so I give out freely what has come my way, touch….! taste….! feel….! hear….! see….! and who am I to hold onto this gift?
Time passes and sooner or later we are all given a choice, that to pass time is too step outside of time….and even so also now, my heart jumps in a shout of praise, as I see the droplets of new dew sun light, just starting to out splay across the land.
....’breaking dawn’ is where the kings gather….
—by flp and taken from ”A Woodworking Story of all that I Am”
Waundering along the other morning I passed this way, where the best of imagination took hold of me and it wasn’t long before I had a feast of de-lights….
....beauty as found in wood, and so this is one I found years ago and come back often too, just to sit in silence and reap the wisdom that ages in wood….
....if one cannot see the beauty that surrounds one here, in this art gallery found in the living forest of wood, then often that comes from not having learned to stop and look up….and so see the hands of trees as they are lifted upward giving thanks for living grace….
....and so I looked within and found my light of inspiration….
....from which the question comes forth; ”who lights the fire that burns from yonder tree….?”
”....work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood….”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/