outside the hut, the storms have come, the fury of nature outside, the force of man resides within

the furnace fills the room with waves of heat, the iron sits within heating to white hot

thunder cracks sending shockwaves through the trees as the rain pounds the roof

driving the hammer over and over, sweat rivulets flow freely down ruddy cheeks

the mighty oak stands strong against the wind, a splintering as the trunk splits

the strain of the the blows sending sparks showering into the soot covered stones

the supple branches of the willow dance among the winds, lashing through the air

the metal is folded and hammered, then folded and hammered again

as the flood waters rise, the once gentle stream swells eroding the banks, washing old trails away

damascus steel folded into sixty layers, heated to a deep orange, quenched and hardened in oil

as the tempest grows outside, hurricane conditions reshaping all it touches

a file runs down the edge, a proper hardening no bite into the steel, razor sharp and deadly

a fork of lightning sizzles into earth, an explosion spraying rock and dirt like shrapnel

the blade whips, slicing silk tossed into the air, the leather wrapped hilt supple to grasp

the fields of wheat now swampland, marsh where verdant fields once lay

a work of art, crafted for one purpose and that is the spilling of the blood of an enemy

the dark clouds part and sunshine dances along the horizon, a gentle rainbow arcs into the distance

war is a constant, the weapon crafted by a bladesmith to be used by a master swordsman

a new thunder approaches outside, the hooves of a warhorse, the promise of doom draws near

a bag of gold for an implement of death, two masters, both artists of steel, one creates the other kills

off the coast a new storm forming, the wars of man meaning little to mother nature

the sword will break, the arm that swings it will weaken, the wielder himself will turn to dust

and still the rains will come, the winds will blow, and the river will reduce the rock to gravel

but the forge still spits out heat, and steel will become pliable, and the down the hammer will fall


5 thoughts on “crucibles

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