The Craftmans Hands

"Its all about the tools" he cried
Looked and wondered at his menagerie
But without the craft he was helpless
And the tools had minds of their own

He thought the knowledge was in them
As he picked them up soullessly reflecting
They were just an accessory of his inadequacy
And he wondered why

Pondering aimlessly amongst a tool laden room
With the need and greed for their life
But hardly examining what he had
And visually looking no more than twice

It is in the heart that the tools do reign
The soul will drive them, to play their game
The heart that moves it in the direction known
And the body the tool that needed to be shown