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Welcome, O life, I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race. Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.
James Joyce—A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Venture and roam
For the roots are rotted
Courage expands within proportion
Keep not standing
Drawing it out
Finish with fire heat and might
I temper the locks in the smithy of my soul
Strike off the chains and go free
Heed no judgements
Cast out opinions
I hammer out hinge in the smithy of my soul
The slag and the ashes spilled outright
And the songs are molten down
Like the skies
As the fallen come crashing down
Spirit sparks fly from the anvil
Hold fast to file and vise
Toil and rejoice
in the roar of the bellows
With measured blows
Wrought in iron
I forge the door in the smithy of my soul
Take up the keys and be gone
from WILD ANGELS,
released December 7, 2010
Words and Music - joe Wilford