From Anvil To

what was hammered out upon my stainless soul had the smith a purpose or was i forged without control, the fires that i cool from were hotter than just flame for they burned in desire so my temper might gain, then to the pure accepting water was i cast so long and deep as if to cleanse the slag that i carried from the heap, so now i am his sculpture what fate would i serve if he thinks it's back to the fire then he sure has plenty of nerve..... . . temper as in strength...