06-05-2024, 05:06 PM
Upon the Page lies a intricate hash-work of scribbled blueprints. Plans to never come to fruition, ideas cut short by logic. Innovation in countenance to conceivable skill. A boy's imagination curtailed by the realism bore by any smith. Though one does remain, a cube--a simple sketch of it. A few notes and lines drawn to it's various parts. Albeit the handwriting was more akin to chicken scratch, something learned in necessity, not in ease.
All of my life, flipping through these old pages now? I've been curtailing ever little idea I had. Because they simply weren't possible. What's a boy to do, when he looks at the world and sees a canvas unwilling to change? Guns, Swords, Armor, that's all I would ever make. Even if I was better then my father, it's all I'd make. At least, that's what I thought. But what happens when I see the extents of another? Of one who has mastered the craft? To see what lies down the road hard taken and harder prevailed?
Last night I got glimpse of that road. And now I don't think I can look away. The intricacies flood my mind, the tools fill my hands when they are empty. I smell the soot of the forge, I taste the smoke. I can't shake these feelings of...awakening? Maybe those boyish ideas were more possible then I thought? Maybe if I learn and I mean, truly learn, I can do more then Guns, and Swords, and Armor.
I guess I should work on redrawing some of these sketches after all. Look at that, pa'. You were wrong for once.