Lately I'm driven onward by the fierce pull of the thing that feeds me.
For the last year I've been waiting on health to put hand to metal and stone,
and it's caused a hunger to grow deep in the belly of my soul.
Time has passed, or rather I have, into a place that allows more.
More life, more living.
The trauma is ending, I can begin again.
I am beginning again.
I sit here, at this bench, and I'm able to find my way back.
I forget my body, my thoughts; only the fundamental need to put what I see in my mind to metal exists.
The sound of the saw sinking into silver eases the ache and the flame of the torch burns away the thoughts of life unlived.
I know there is something of measure, of purpose here.
This is what I'm meant to do.
To create; to guide dream into reality.
I don't question the how or the why.
That part's not important.
Only to show up and follow the path waiting before me.