From women's eyes these words derive
but I do not gaze, nor look
in the sparkling jewels
or the orbs of gold and brass

As the smiths of old
I have bashed and hammered
trying to shape, myself
or all others

Molten shards of hopes and dreams
coalesced in the forge to forge
my everything

Earthly shackles bind my
mind, soul and body
united but divided

Pure life,
are a mirage, flitting in the
horizon, beyond reach
beyond grasp

All work has now ended
the hammer lays
on the anvil, the forge cools
no lumber is added

The flames die out
only splinter still burns a light

the forger, the blacksmith
has left, 'till the passion
that burns in his heart
burns out in the far reaches of time