As I struggle

through the

Crucible of Life,

I now realize

that its heat

forged a

crucible inside.

Filtered and clean,

I simmer within,

waiting to be

poured out,

but still protected

by its steely


This path

has been no

random thing.

Somewhere, the

mold lays, waiting,

to give me shape.

With a flash of heat,

a spill of molten beads,

soon, I will cool

and be

fully made.

© CGT, 2018.

Talk to me.