I will stay here honing
At the cold and lonely wheel,
While the sparks fly out and spout
A heat to singe and heal.
I will stay here honing
Until my sharpness cleaves desire,
Then may heaven open wide
And pull me from the fire.
I will stay here honing
In this damp and mournful hut,
Until all the eyes upon my work
Don’t notice they’ve been cut.
