The Fire That Refines a Man to Gold

 

 

 

By the crude hammer of a hundred rejections

My heart is shaped, a beggar for love now turned to stone

My bark is now thick, like leaves of mistrust

But one divine wish lodged in my breast

For a piece of heaven, this world is too dark

These blows so unique to the earth

Stun me, as if I were not a sacred heart too?

In the forge of the harshness of women

I as a man, was moulded and re-made

To be a beast, a stalking prey, a trickster

Only the fires of my boiled blood can burn

Though how I treat the next women

Is not even to me revealed, possessed and scorned

With youthful vitality, mistreated and buried

I give up on the spring-discovery, on a woman’s taste.