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Ashlar Home > Poems > William E. Ogren > The Craft

The Craft

By William E. Ogren

Are we perfect? No, we never were, nor will we ever be,
Yet our light has been a beacon for all the world to see.

Belonging to a brotherhood that shares a trust in God,
We've left our mark upon the world, wherever we have trod.

Founded in antiquity and lasting through the years,
A fraternity of friendship, a brotherhood of peers.

From the moment we are raised, until we are deceased,
We always have the memory of our journey to the East.

When I knelt before the altar and then was brought to light,
I looked upon the Bible and the brothers in my sight.

My brothers never left my side through many trying days.
They made my life much richer in so many different ways.

I've felt the grip of brotherhood while traveling o'er the land.
That grip of Master Mason that is passed from hand to hand.

I have felt the nervous handshake of a brother newly raised.
And the cold hand in a hospice on a brother's final days.

I have labored in the quarries for I felt the cause was just.
Now I wear this purple apron and I view it as a trust.

An apron's just a piece of cloth, although it's worn with pride.
It's what it represents that counts a brotherhood worldwide
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