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Maker
I was a mound of earth, impure, unremarkable, and dirty.
Then I was washed and rinsed.
I was a pile of ore, of one kind, but not whole.
Then I was placed in the fire.
I was a bloom, irregular and ugly.
Then the hammer first found me.
I was a billet, made whole but without purpose.
Then the hammer moved me.
I was forged by the Smith…and glad am I of my time between
fire, hammer, and anvil.
By Him and through them I was made, and now may do as I was
meant to.
BBP 11-22-04
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