I mined these jewels from an article in The Guardian by Frank Cottrell Boyce and reset them:
For the Makers
This is how it must be,
The nature of the ceremony.
You must offer up the generosity of attention,
Ask nothing in return save the joy of knowing,
Of creating for them.
All must be forged from muscle and sweat and steel
To bring them within the circle,
To make them feel and not admire.
You must feed the work upon stored sunlight,
With strata studded with treasures, that holds songs in its black and beautiful heart.
Make no transaction though.
Let no coin come between you,
Or the charge of it will be earthed:
The fuel will be spent.
Ask for nothing back lest the power burn away too soon.
Carry each other onwards though the work be long and wet, gruelling and thankless.
Complete the ritual with good manners at the hearth of your fellows.
Do it for the craft of it.
And when that impulse of delight has revealed the knife, the blade, the torc,
Then raise a mighty heart-stopping shout.
After that, it remains to stuff them in the rucksacks of your children.
Let them stride away.
Say blessings after them:
Let them fly like arrows,
Let them fall like rain.
For the sake of reckless generosity.