Umm, it's a thing...
So, I wrote this t'other day and I had no idea where to put it. But considering it was borne of me trying to get over a bout of Spander induced writer's block, it's going here.
Sometimes the boys won't shut up and the words come in pages and pages. Then other times they're like having a schizophrenic muse with ADHD!
Author: cobalt_mystic
Title: The Artisan (until/unless something better comes up)
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Feedback: Feel free, but try avoid permanent damage and scarring, k.
The Artisan
(working title)
He works his tools like a master smith.
His forge burns hot, a fire in his belly and heart belaying the coolness of his touch.
Purifying, he removes the detritus and imperfections from his ore.
His hammer strikes true, whether with feather kisses or firm strokes- the power in his gentle hands bleed through.
Bending, shaping, he takes them from base elements to things of beauty, of meaning.
His anvil is strong, a constant in a sea of ever changing pressures- memories, love, life, and hope have all been pounded out here.
Tempering, he strengthens his work with emotion, and seals it with knowledge.
He is a true artisan, a master-craftsman.
His ore, but words.
His hammer, simple pen.
His anvil, mere paper.
Yet his masterwork is not less than any journeyman's, wrought from sweat, strength, tears, and love.
Sometimes the boys won't shut up and the words come in pages and pages. Then other times they're like having a schizophrenic muse with ADHD!
Author: cobalt_mystic
Title: The Artisan (until/unless something better comes up)
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Feedback: Feel free, but try avoid permanent damage and scarring, k.
The Artisan
(working title)
He works his tools like a master smith.
His forge burns hot, a fire in his belly and heart belaying the coolness of his touch.
Purifying, he removes the detritus and imperfections from his ore.
His hammer strikes true, whether with feather kisses or firm strokes- the power in his gentle hands bleed through.
Bending, shaping, he takes them from base elements to things of beauty, of meaning.
His anvil is strong, a constant in a sea of ever changing pressures- memories, love, life, and hope have all been pounded out here.
Tempering, he strengthens his work with emotion, and seals it with knowledge.
He is a true artisan, a master-craftsman.
His ore, but words.
His hammer, simple pen.
His anvil, mere paper.
Yet his masterwork is not less than any journeyman's, wrought from sweat, strength, tears, and love.