As I sat there in the morning,
Beneath the lone oak tree,
I wondered at the world around,
And what bushcraft meant to me.
Bushcraft is a treasure chest,
Of skills and Lores of old,
Its freedom from the mundane world,
It’s JUST living for the bold.
It’s not some silly romantic dream,
Or having the most expensive knife,
It’s not chatting on some forum,
Causing trouble, wrecking lives.
The petty politics we find in life,
In the bush should have no place,
It’s for the love of nature,
If you’ve got a problem say it to their face.
Bushcraft is for the gentle soul,
It’s for the hardest man,
It’s seeing the world with a child’s sweet eyes,
And being the best you can.
It’s wonder and it’s beauty,
It’s a zone that’s lie and EGO free,
It’s the silent woods with dew wet leaves,
Not sitting by some PC.
As I sat beneath my Oak and watched the slow sun rise,
I saw another truth and watched world unfold before my very eyes.
And as I sat in quiet reflection part of natures scheme,
I knew within my heart of hearts it wasn’t just a dream.
And that is what Bushcraft is to me its escaping from the world,
It’s escaping the petty politics, escaping jealous words,
It’s understanding our place within natures rich tapestry,
And I hope one day you’ll taste the truth and sit ‘neath mine Oak with me.