It always led somewhere

It always led somewhere

Not so easy to follow

The beating of iron

The heat of the forge

Blistered fingers

Working the tools

Crawling in muck

Branded by coal dust

Soaked into the skin

As black as old bones

Bitten to the marrow

Lifted by the years

Dropped down

Out of the blue

Into a nightmare

War-torn

Pressed into service

The deserving poor

The skilled practitioner

The dark arts

Failing all needs

Falling away with the effort

Of keeping up

Working on paper

Finger painting

Blue sky thinking

Building a future

Living a past

Running the system

Bucking a trend

Always ready

Never expected

But expectant of change

In the order of things

Time was

Time is

Without substance

Slipping through

Rheumatoid fingers.

Time was

They held tools

Of office

Of mechanics

Lost to statistics.

The folly of men

Always led somewhere

Closer to being

Than a footnote

But time was

As time is,

Always un-becoming.