It takes an ardent attention to detail to make something from that that iron they bring in from the bogs. Half slag at best, many other smiths would throw it away. But it calls to be made pure. Continue reading “Rough to refined.”
Under stars of frozen light, careless to dark beneath them. Subject to winds which chill the bone and keep any warmth at bay. One huddles with who and what they have to escape the bite of ice. Continue reading “The blaze.”
The ring and hum of the thundering applause brings smiles to this face of mine. Where I go, the audience follows, my journeys of years taking place in moments in market squares across the lands. Continue reading “A dream of applause.”
How best can one honor the fallen? How best can they be avenged? It is not done through words from silver tongues, nor granted by the blessings of a foe. It is taken by those with pride in their kin, and the certainty of their convictions. Continue reading “On principle.”
Many times I had gone by those fields where fortune flowers. My wealth was noticed on the path and where those paths did lead. Continue reading “Flowering fields of fortune.”
