"Every year for decades, around this time of year I quietly look back on life's meanderings.
This year is especially reflective, it's getting harder to see coal to forge and the hand fails to
strike word without trembling reminder the sands of time were not part of the immortal bargain."
"...For that I am sorry."
"The blacksmith and the artist,
Reflect it in their art,
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart."
"So many things I would tell you, so many things I cannot; one day the forge fires
will fade, hand no longer to brush- touch the things I have made and remember
my voice, know where my heart came and where it stayed. My peasant hands brought
from me the words I cannot always say in what you see, and my touch in what you hold."