Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door —
Red — is the Fire’s common tint —
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame’s conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil’s even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs — within —
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge —

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1 Comment

  1. frumpo says:

    Just as a blacksmith refines metal by heating it white-hot, so trials (as the purifying fires of the soul) come to everyone. If we patiently endure, the trial will soon be over, and our character will be more full of light.

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