There are hammers
and anvils,
hot coals, and bellows.
There are burns,
scars, and manuals,
whose pages,
in the swelter,
have yellowed.
There are rough hands,
callouses,
leather sleeves,
molten malice,
and the burning
need for revenge
brought on
by temporary
madness.
But,
when I quench the blade,
in cool,
clean water,
I am reminded
of my own making.
I am forged
of cold iron,
and need not
chip my blade
whilst swinging wildly
at the vengeful spirits
that I kindled
today.
©️ 2019.
Today has actually been quite lovely.
