Through The Sawmill Of Life Poem by Jim Harmon

Through the sawmill of life into the Carpenters hands
We as raw lumber to perfection grand
Chips and dust, knots and twigs
To matched veneers of hand polished leaves
We find ourselves both waste and treasure.

All of this from a single seed
Through years of growth yet felled with ease
We journey down the conveyor belt of life
To be scraped and ripped, planed and jointed
Laid bare and raw beneath our protective bark.
Yet even that has its use
In spite of all the abuse.