Poem: The Blacksmith’s Fire

29.JPG

The Blacksmith’s Fire

The fire burns low and hot,
able to burn and melt and brand,
able to warm or consume,
a thing of beauty, work, and death,
all in the control
or lack of it.

About this poem

Some days I think the very things that make me, me, are equal parts wonder and conflagration. It makes for a delicate dance,

Tom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s