Crucible

The crucible does cradle sulphured soul,
demanding that it melts and blackened holds,
new form until the moment then is drawn;
with alchemy to charm and be reborn.
Creation in the fire does surely groan,
the secret simmers slowly for the stone,
awareness so diffuse will be the source;
as focussed consciousness does run its course.
The magic mirrors unity and golden grace,
that truth may be remade in surer place,
through volatile and fixed the work is done;
in siren song the gift of life is won.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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One Response to Crucible

  1. Trully tested by fire. So fine a theme of our time.

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