Sometimes things get a bit cluttery in the world of a professional artist.
I was hunting down my bin of antique mail box parts to use some actual cogs and gears (not those faux ones from the craft store) on steampunk style pendulums. Turns out they were hiding under my big oak workbench. I remember putting them there because that bin is too heavy for my puny bookshelves.
In order to get to these treasures, though, I had to move several two-foot-high piles of catalogues and magazines that had accumulated there on the floor (because the floor is a flat surface, you know). Things that, for the most part, are still relevant today. I picked them up at trade shows and have been working toward getting where I can order from them and put the new stuff on the shelf here at the Moon.
Well it occurred to me that I have a mostly empty file cabinet in my office at the store, so hey, I could just take that to work with me and put it away for a change! Yay!! I am well-stocked with tote bags, so I filled *11* of them with the stuff, hauled it out to the car, and felt mighty proud of myself to have reclaimed a one-by-five strip of floor space.
Decluttering begets more decluttering, so I started eyeballing some 3-ring binders I have on one of my many bookshelves in the studio. What were these things, do I still want them? Most of them are full of stuff I’ve pulled out of magazines, anything from “how to remove stains” types of articles to ads for stuff that inspires me to make something kinda like it, or even craft magazine articles. I have a few binders full of articles about running retail shops, display ideas, boring business stuff. Most of these things I just left on the shelf, to be leafed through like I sometimes do, looking for inspiration or a refresher on some artistic technique.
But I did find a couple of treasures. One, a binder of photographs my sister took, very arty stuff for sale. So it is now out where people can browse (and maybe buy) the prints.
The other thing was a binder full of random crap but it also contained a poem that doesn’t suck too much. I don’t remember writing it, but it’s obviously my penmanship, so I know I did. I am not a big poetry fan and just about every line is heavily revised, so I’m certain I didn’t copy it from anywhere.
I used to keep magnetic poetry by my bed and would sometimes randomly stick words together, maybe work it into something over the course of a week. This may have come from something like that.
So then, without further ado, I shall share this with the world. Or with both of my readers, whoever gets there first.
(Sometime in June 2006)
Moon in my window keeps me awake
Reminds me of the Lost Ones
Where did they go?
Here one day then gone,
Spirits of the breeze
Shadows in the trees
The watchers and guardians who have moved on.
In my back yard,
Bare feet in dewy grass,
I want to send my call.
What if my call goes unanswered?
Shifting clouds obscure my name?
Echoes die like embers of a sacred flame?
I suppress the fear of loneliness,
Pale moon cold in my heart.
This torch I’m supposed to pass, can it kindle another fire?
I should be strong and shape the future,
But I’m afraid to knock on my own door.
I tell myself I’m being stupid.
I will play this game to the end.
I am a night dancer and must not give up.
I call to my own by name.
Every day I will build a new fire,
I will grow that council flame.
When I sing my call it’s loud and strong
And though it may take some time,
The watchers and the spirits will come home
To spin, turn, and frolic in the blue and green shadows of the night.
So when I am ready to meet the gate keeper,
And pass along my torch some day,
I will be able to see my path clearly
Because I’ll have lit the way
My own torch will have lit so many others
Who will help me find my way.
Then it will be my turn to be a shadow in the breeze.
