As the smithy’s fire burns bright
Impurities rise up in the red hewn light
The fierce flames of the furnace await
The inert coppery rock’s final fate

Hiss, pop, sizzle, crackle
There’s no element this fire can’t tackle
The unforgiving hunger of the heat beckons
As the slurry separates out in seconds

Plunged without mercy into the freezing water
Metal takes on form from out of the slaughter
Bang bash wallop boom
The hammer reigns down under the full moon

A weapon cast from the dirt of these lands
Formed in the roughness of the blacksmith’s hands
Fire, water, air, earth come together
Alongside millions of years of crushed vegetation and inclement weather

Beads of sweat form on the smithy’s brow
The free flowing nectar of his ancestral knowhow
A gladiatorial blade fashioned out of primordial might
The shining blade glimmers ~ a harbinger of light

David Stone 11.04.18 ~ The Blacksmith’s Forge

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