The golden bird on golden bough
first came from furnace fire,
dross removed, skilfully hammered
into object of desire.
The curving razor sword that glints
along its lustrous length
was heated, folded, beaten
into its shining strength.
I much desire the forged-steel strength
but not the hammer blows,
yet I must bend before the forge
from which the lustre grows.
First published at Praxis on line, June, 2017