Glass icons shatter,
The slow spilling of blood
For a place in the sun.
She is the crook, she is the flail,
And she'll destroy you without fail.
Your smoky soul billows
Like a mountain's breath
Gleaming with the ungodly gold
Of abandoned dreams.
Lady Blacksmith Sun
Hammers you in the screaming sand
Without a smile--
You will never forget
Her touch.
