Let the forge burn hot and bright
incinerate impurities
which linger about late at night.
Heat dispels insecurities.

Withdraw the ingot from the fire
and to the anvil cold and hard.
Let the hammer vent your ire
sending sparks into the yard.

Each spark is not a part of form
so beat them to achieve your desire
a return to forgotten "norm".
A time before the smithy's fire.

Vent your fury on that steel;
pound it into what you want.
Transfer all the pain you feel
into a silicon chip's font.

Then quench the product in cold oil
adding strength to last the years.
We'll then recall the toils
performed before the time of tears.

Then, lastly, polish this thing
so it will shine with lasting beauty
long after the smith has taken wing
and fled into eternity.