Small words woven on a page
Spun in crowns of flowers and gold
Express the longing of love-struck
Lovers of love and romance

Dark words forged by fires of pain
Tempered and blasted by self-crafted crucibles
Cry aloud the bane of life's refinement
Promising service in exchange for loss

From the same forge come gold and steel
The same stone sharpens sword and crown
But never do hard and precious metals alloy
Except to the ruin of them both

A blacksmith knows his customers well
And would not dare to taint his craft
By insisting that the mold
For one will suit them both as well

The glittering polished rings of gold
Will not subsitute for ringmail
The fire-tempered helms of steel
Cannot adorn a lover's brow

From the same forge come gold and steel
The same stone sharpens sword and crown
But mix them and ruin the batch of both
And lose with them the forge and stone

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Mayan, in the year 360 AF.