A Poem of Beginning

The difficulty does not lie in the rigidity or weight of the steel.
I do not fear the labor of bending it to my skill.
The pain does not lie in the vibration of the grinder or the impact of the hammer.
Soreness is common now, and I suspect it will grow in time.
The uncertainty does not lie in bringing a drawing into physical existence.
I have done it enough times now to know that I need not control or understand the process in order to achieve realization.

The difficulty, as I stare at the open space in front of me, is in bringing into this world a new line, a new form, a new texture.
Before the approaching winter, what good is the light cast from a single, tiny, flickering form?
Only to be snuffed out in a heartbeat… a single heartbeat… and then darkness all-encompassing?

Therein lies the difficulty.

new sentinel with poem