Poetry Project, V.4.0, Day 3

I had a conversation recently with my father, in which I mentioned when it is that I'm the happiest.  It turns out that I am the most happy when I am creating something.  It doesn't matter what the medium - I'm simply happy when I create.  Te very act of creating is both relaxing and stimulating simultaneously.  Whether it's a the simple action of sanding a piece of wood until smooth, or writing a poem, or painting a picture, or even just cooking dinner, there is something about me that is inherently connected with the act of creating things.  On the whole, I even tend to be decently good at it, too.  Not the best, but certainly not the worst.  On the whole, I think that's a pretty good place to be.  But it was this conversation that got me thinking about the act of creating, and that I wanted to write about it.  Thus, we have today's poem.

The Blacksmith

I miss the sound-
 hammerfalls,pinching hot metal against cold,
 a ringing in my ears
 and the muscle memory of the shock in my hands.
You learn to absorb it,
 see through the sweat as it drips,
 stinging the eyes as the metal cools all too fast
 and the shape begins to form.
Heat, motion, iron, sweat -
 a meeting of man and metal,
 giving soul to the earth
 and strength to the body.
One cannot be without the other -
 the interplay of will
 their combat
 on a field between this world and the next.
What was, what is, what can be -
 as each gives his all
 with every strike
 to forge something new within the other.

Perhaps a bit vague and enigmatic - probably more simplistic and silly, if you really want to look at it.  I can't decide, personally.  But, that's part of the point of doing this thing every April: to take a journey, and to share it with those who might be willing to take a few minutes to read. 

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid