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Daily Poem 11/14/2020

There is a burnishing of the soul

How it hurts

Scraping away the etchings of the past

There is the forging

Dipped into fires too hot to withstand

And then pounded by fate

Dipped, and pounded

Finally thrust into to cold water

The worst though

The worst is that moment of being chopped into pieces

Melted into a featureless brick

Placed on a shelf for later

Centuries pass

Until there is need

Fires and forging

Molded and shaped

What will I become this time

Burnished until gleaming

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