Rocks and Stones

For what is  lumpen ore no more
Cold forged and grey upon
The  darkened smithy floor

Now  Irradescent is the heart
Of one that loves, and yet
No longer has to play a part

For  whom there be but one port,
One harbour, one perfect creation
Who from lifeless clay was wrought.

One light at the distant window cill,
A single reason to  breathe  in this world
One well,  where  he  may take his fill.