Fulcrum: (noun) The support about which something turns. One that supplies capability for action.
She’d long since decided she was better alone
she felt that somehow it was wise,
Although longing for love that was missing
It stayed absent in any guise.
But when ent’ring her fulcrum of crafting
Inspiration soared forth from her dreams
unrequited love quite forgotten
As she crafted her heart to well-being.
“Life, a never-ending gift – express yours today!” ~ Plh
Happy Weekend! A great time to use your imagination and dream, wonder, create, inspire … enjoy!
There are two topics to chose from this week in the Līgo Haībun Challenge, Many thanks to hostess Nightlake for presenting this opportunity for writers to improve their writing skills. For more information click on the link. At the close of each challenge several of the entrees are chosen to receive “special mention”. A pleasant added goal to strive for. To all who enter the challenge, I wish you good writing. The topics are:
“Strike while the iron is hot” – Chaucer
My offering: The Blacksmith’s Bell
The sound reverberated as his hammer struck metal again, and again, and yet again. His strokes, a rhythm of harmony in motion, striking precise spots in smoothing repetition. This was a critical stage; the shaping and molding of white hot metal. The fires from the forge flamed high, giving off much needed heat.
It was an honor to be chosen. He would not fail. No casting for this bell. It was being crafted from his hands to last forever and would ring with clarity, a pure rich song of vibration never heard before. He would insure this.
The slow uniform succession of strokes tolled as his bell would toll. His purpose, his design, his creation. Sweat pored freely down greatly reddened face and body as the fires flamed his desire to create. A transmuted configuration produced by him and only him. A work of art – the blacksmith’s bell.
pure essence of need
the crafting of creation
man’s driven desire