[Background: On Sunday when I got to church, I sat towards the windows, the sun shining through and unto the beautiful pews, I could see the age rings of the wood, and it struck me that these furniture have been around for over 50years, it was like I could actually see the trees they came from, and it tingled something inside me that prompted me to record the feelings.
The aforementioned revelation and other personal situations inspired this piece, hope it blesses you as much as it did me while writing it.]
From the smallest of seeds your journey begins,
Buried in the dirt of the earth, you overcome death
And spring to life. Time passes by,
Your roots taste the dirt, your foliage leaves break the dirt
And your upward sprout begins.
At first you "go by" unnoticed, next our heights are equal,
In a few years your girth increases and you tower over me.
I become just another object relative to your elegance, beauty and poise,
But how can I complain when your branches brood over me
Like guarding wings - They shelter me from the pouring rain,
They give me shade in the scorching sun.
And when I need to see farther than my height affords,
A piggy back from you is all I need.
You are there for me and all who care to reach for you
Oh... what a selfless friend you are.
You clean my fumes and give me life's air,
Your generosity far exceeds your size.
When the gentle winds come by you whisper sounds of
Serenity, Peace, Love.
I look at you and remember the beauty of the simple things,
Such a beauty to behold - Mahogany!
That fateful day I walk on by and notice the void,
I look to you and you are gone.
Like your brothers and sisters you've fallen victim to the felling fellow -
Your bold beauty cut down by the lumberjack's saw
Ironically so, you've been cut down for your strength.
Now your afterlife begins. Your first stop - the timber processing center.
Your strength is translated into powerful sculpture or magnificent furniture.
Should sculpture be your fate,
You submit yourself to the nips and chips of the chisels
Day by day you give of yourself,
And day by day your new beauty is a made evident.
They call your new beauty art, but when I look closer,
I see your old self, always giving,
And now giving the aesthetic satisfaction of art.
You may not know it, but that satisfaction goes a long way,
It could even help mend a broken heart.
And should furniture be your fate,
You lie down and submit to the cutting and filing of the carpenter,
You take in those nails that hold your joints together
As you patiently wait to be a resting place for a person's glass of milk,
As in a table,
A storage place, as in a shelf or cupboard (dresser),
Or a place for one to sit and relax their tired legs,
As in a chair, a stool, a bench.
In whatever form your new life turns out to be,
You are always giving, blessing every heart.
You are a seed, you are a tree, you are mahogany,
You are sculpture, table, chair, wood,
But above all, you are a giving gift.
NB: Good is deathless, we all just need to look closer and see that it is right there with us,
blessing us and all mankind.
Unexpected: the last 48 hours
1 week ago