Deep in the forge, you glimmer in the dark,
A demon blacksmith dealing out your blows:
You grace each lump of metal with your spark
And bring it to the heat, until it grows
More pliable and soft, and quick to bend -
Then beat it into any shape you like.
There on the bench, it tapers to the end
Of what it was, and moves with every strike
Of your fixed temper into something new.
And you could turn me into anything -
Break me in pieces if you wanted to -
And yet you make me stronger, help me sing:
With such delight I cool into a blade
That’s at your service, sharp & unafraid.
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