While watching with heated eyes
The fierce glow of molten steel being
Beaten on the horned table like an animal's back,
And the bulging sinews beneath perspiring flesh,
My ears and brain throb with the ringing beats,
As the form of stubborn steel is moulded by
The man's struggle, his muscle, force and heat.
Then, staring into the glow, my mind wanders
To the Former:
By what spirit passions is he moulded?
With what experiences can such a man
be forged for life's Eternal Way,
if heedless of his own breath's Source?
What activity forms his final spirit shape?
Does he strive to know his Creator's Will?
Or does he defiantly excuse himself from
the gentle Spirit promptings of God?