Ghost’s of Wood
....this place i am found in as part of the all,
can be said to be a mis-taken identity,
that preceded from what other’s called the call,
before i made a case for individuality-of-entity….
—-when i was young and free as the rivulets of wind swept icy snow flakes,
there was the sense of knowing all that i needed to know,
and what was there to stop my dreams from entertaining my imagination,
since who could stand before the presence of who i am….
—-those older then i shadowed my image,
till i felt as if i was starving for light,
what with all their opinions of how to play in their game,
and soon it was that i also became just as much as they….
—-those that surrounded me with all their friendly words,
were soon empty of inhabiting next door space,
as when i opened up and shared from different then their’s,
and often was the times i felt the reins pulling against the bit….
—-words were created to give give some punctuation of morbid intellectual co-habitation,
morbid intellectual co-habitation is the demise of freedom of words,
puff your-self up and blow thy-self out as a token of some gaseous fart,
but you will never escape the rumors of lingering smell that snipe at your heels….
—-tis better in the end that one come to know,
all of what came out of your life,
has been but the flickering many sorts of rumination’s of other’s,
where looking closely one will see the many headless wonders such as i…..
—-and so the story goes it’s way of many assorted voices,
all vying to be heard on the in star-rooms of chat,
where popular is sought after as the gathering of like-minded clicks,
while in the aroma of space there walks those other homeless vagrants….
—-and so there came my day of reckoning as i turned a corner,
to see the empty-cluttered alley-ways where vagrant mis-fits have entombed,
these are the ones who watch me now from deserted entry-ways,
as i go a waundering and searching for the glimmerings of ideas….
—-tis better now this imaging of likeness within my head—-
....oh how the wind-swept characters of wood do run,
as they give forth their stories be-yond time,
and back at home in the forest-fields of now,
i contemplate this zesty word feast that is laid out be-fore mine eyes….
—-a table thou hast pre-pared for me,
spoke one of past within his age,
and a table pre-pared now as broken bread of wood,
is the speaking forth that comes from a seer of wood….
—-i have been likened as a tree of oaken old,
but now i am sawn at latter years in-to golden oaken planks,
tis not what matters much as to my beginnings of yesterday old,
when there is so much more be-fore me as an oaken table of wood….
—-these ghost’s of wood are ever on my heels,
tracking the stories that feed my imagination at lofty heights,
till one day soon i am sure to stop in all my waunderings through forests glens,
and wait for those who have come searching to hear a life-time story….
....how far goes the one who has the time to learn the secrets of wood,
these tellings that can shape the character of the spirit of man,
and were i to pass this way again of forest guarded coves of wood,
then so be the the same giving of thanks that heralds forth my ‘wood art’ praise….
Well let’s get to moving now, so if you’ll put your hiking boots on, we’ll take a hike I took a couple of weeks ago before the snows came. I have not had the time until this morning to get this one up and online, but this will be a last of sorts as to seeing ground without the whiteness of snow. This was a long hike, of a few hours in and out….so you may also want to bring plenty of water and then some energy munchies….
....entering here, we enter at the risk of being mistaken by hunters for deer….but then there are other beings also, that track those who come and enter herein. Many are the stories of those who have never re-turned with a firm grip on their imaginations, after becoming en-tangled within the tree web of rustic wood spirits that assemble all around. As you can see standing before you, these are two guardians of the way….
....continuing along, the air is crisp with weather that is yet to come….
....the scenery starts changing as we start climbing up and over land-scape….
....walking silent, ever looking for sign….
....walking out here is a place to experience silence. I have noticed that when I take folks with me on these trips, one of the hardest things for them to do….is to be silent and listen to the sound of talking woods all around….
....now we start catching glimpses of granite….
....foundations of granite, loose granite and how many ways can you count granite….
....once the snows come, can one suppose that there might be bears….
....or coyote in these surroundings….
....evening is coming and so the light starts playing with our vision….
....deep woods and hobbit’s telling dark stories….
....walking on we pass a tale that speaks a view all it’s own….
....this is as far as we’re going today, as it’s getting late and dusk is coming….
....re-turning, we shall come by an-other way….
....and so the time passes, and now we are getting close to home….
....hope you enjoyed the waundering hike….and,
”....work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood….”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/