The Foundry Of My Being

The bellows pump
The fires roar
My hammer strikes hot steel
Frightening are the sounds they make
In the foundry of my being great works form
Upon the anvil they do break
My courage falters, my passions storm
Too poor are my creations for other eyes to take
The bellows pump
The fires roar
My hammer strikes hot steel
Sometimes one dream is saved
It comes into this world and here it is destroyed
The very land beneath it razed
The very one for whom my spirit was employed
Finds it shape not pleasing, this oblige me stand amazed
The bellows rest
The fires choke
My hammer strikes not steel
A single ember glows
Its heat stings my skin, as over my face it flows
It stares out of the furnace, like a piercing sanguine eye
The bellows start
The fires rouse
My hammer again strikes steel
‘Tis good the ember would not go out
This heart of the fire that would not die
It’s defiant light I will never rout
In the foundry of my being my emotions still cry and shout