A little Emily Dickinson does the soul good

Because I am too tired to share with you the excitement of my day, I will just share this poem I stumbled upon tonight that blessed my soul (as Emily Dickinson is wont to do)

Dare you see a soul at the white heat?

Then crouch within the door

Red is the fire's common tint;

But when the vivid ore

Has sated flame's conditions,

Its quivering substance plays

Without a color but the light

Of unannointed blaze.

Least village boasts its blacksmith,

Whose anvil's even din

Stands symbol for the finer forge

That soundless tugs within,

Refining these impatient ores

With hammer and with blaze

Until the designated light

Repudiate the forge.

~Emily Dickinson