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A love letter to Iron Dear Iron, Are we still married? Or have you gotten a divorce? On grounds of desertion? Incompatibility? I hope nothing worse.... If we're still married, great. If not - here I am again, ready to court. I want to stay married to you. I want to die with my hammer in my hand. Hmm. All about me? OK, a lot of it is about me - the thrill of pleasure I feel at the smell of WD40 and coal smoke. It's about the thrill of sparks and fire. It's about the dream of transformation - Rilke: "Behold the fire of transformation...." Yes, I started from the stance of wanting to change myself and my culture and world. But it's not entirely self centered. I love you, Iron, for yourself. I love your density, your weight, your strength and resistance. I mourn the inevitability of your rusting away to nothing but dust - but it's a bond between us, this inevitable death. Meanwhile, while we're both alive, what I love most about you is the same as always. You look so dead - "dead as a doornail" - yet you're a secret dance of electrons. And when you transform yourself to show this aliveness, this dancing presence, you shock me fully alive as well. Iron, together you and I, let's come fully alive - dance - show the dance, show the aliveness. For us to do this, love is required, love and commitment. You have both from me. Now let's dance! ---------------------------------- |
