The Woodworker

To some, a forest will only be

A shady floor for reverie.

But one with Heaven’s eye can see

That Beauty resides within a tree.

“They’re merely trees”, so some insist,

As if God and “merely” co-exist.

The woodworker cannot resist

To craft the miracle he so wished.

Measured twice, begins the task

And stripping bark, removes the mask

Of Creation, showing Glory’s past.

Become to be is real, at last.

So lift the veil, and quicken pace,

You’ve steeled yourself to run this race.

Your passion offers us a taste

What exists beneath a forest’s face.