Athame: Forging the Blade

Muffled roar of forge-fire,

Sphere of orange heat,

Stretching outward with each moment of hissing indrawn breath…

Pressing against my cheeks,

Hot cloth tingling fiercely against chest, arms, thighs.

Thought blows away on the red wind streaming around me,

and the wind fills me with forge-fire light.

Sharp-edged crystal,

Resonant shaft of steel,

Plunged into the storm within the soul of the fire,

Rising red.

The hammer is will wielded, cold steel on hot.

Hard, undeniable will, shaping a shaft.

Each blow is impassioned thought.

You are the blade of making,.

You are the blade…blade…blade.

Hungry blade drinking fire,

Rising red,

Rising yellow.

Crystal unfolding, opening,

Carbon flowing through crystalline chaos,

Wind within the metal.

Yellow blade rising,

Plunging into oil, into old life,

Life buried in stone, buried in time…

Ancient life.

Athame rising, plunging.

Cup opening, embracing.

Flame.

Crystal twisting, closing,

Stretching tight around the wind within,

Trapping the moment.

Athame.