Metalwork
You have tempered worse
Do not turn to the water just yet
Yes, you can see the glow
Of your closed fist in the dark
But you can contain your molten veins
You've done it before
You'll do it again
So says the fact
That you keep raising your arm
And bringing it down
Just to see the sparks fly
Pugilism
I wrap my hands in reassurance
And strike the trapped sand of my temperament
Until it spins beneath its chains
And I can revel in unknowing again
As beads of sweat slide down my skin
Raindrops against the shutters to my soul
I close my senses and become rhythm
That my self may be lost in the spaces between beats
And return upon each impact
Every blow a prodigal child
An arm's reach their journey
Stumbling across satisfaction
I swap the freedoms of the tools that found it
With those of my mind
Returning to the world refreshed,
Ready for whatever may come my way
Until such time as a few more rounds
Need be fed to the flame
