Strike the forge, fire the coal,
chained upon the steel this soul.
With the hammer, its strike peening,
Hopes to reforge the spear to keening.

The bargain made, sent embers afly,
With spirit so fickle, so sure to awry.
An ill-timed whack sent embers asky,
Laying waste to forests where dry.

Though a masterwork all, it could go wrong,
I caution all with this patchwork song.
Trust not the work on pointed tip,
For surely in hand will tremble and slip.

To shear the sky and split the ground,
To set afear with tremulous sound.
The heavens divide and the clouds will part,
From deals made from an ignoble start.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Mayan, in the year 795 AF.