The Ferrier's Aria

A Poem

This is a poem a wrote a while back, and am still quite happy with - I might have changed out the word “Ferrier” if I wrote it more recently - and that lead is not, in fact, very hardened - but I shan’t change it now.

The poem, and the character therein (a maker of stars) are loosely connected to a fantasy world that I have long aspired to craft, but have yet to bring to fruition. Seek for it not in the near future, for I have not the time to unearth its secrets. Yet. Lord willing I shall, in years to come.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (I also just figured out how to keep the formatting of the poem intact, so it will hopefully be an easier reading experience than my last couple posts.)

The Ferrier’s Aria

He came one night, while all lay prone,
     he masked in azure robe.
Bearded, shimmering silver tone,
     onyx, the horse he rode.

Spoke none to he, and he to none,
     neighed not his stalwart steed.
In silence cloaked, 'til rising sun,
     smiled he o'er shining sea.

Upon that spot a fire he built,
    forge about the embers;
great anvil laid by what he wilt,
    from the depths surrendered.

Then humming he a simple song,
     yet it so perplexes,
hoisted a mighty hammer, strong,
     craft-work he professes.

Echoed it out through all the Earth,
    ringing off the anvil;
Farrier’s aria, laid in worth,
    the rhythm of his will.

Saw we not form of hooded face
     save for bristles, sterling,
and though we've gone up to that place
     only glimpsed his working.

Always he shone with brightened light,
     while sun traversed the skies;
night, he flared, a coruscate sight,
    sparks lit in horse's hide.

Fashioned he works, through night and day;
    ceased not his toil and sweat.
The elements he wrought as clay,
    and hardened them as lead.

Accomplishing his mighty works,
    he flung them to the skies!
They gleamed and flashed in lively mirth,
    they dazzled in our eyes.

The man of argent, silver beard
    made laughter his new cloak,
and as in azure robe appeared,
    took leave like rising smoke.

Left he behind no single tool,
    but anvil stands there still.
The forge still burns where embers rule,
    the stars, a Farrier’s will.

In truth, we did not know him then,
     and know him, still, not now,
yet if you sojourn through his den,
     you'll hear his anvil sound!

Words Of Note

aria: n
1. an air or melody.
2. an elaborate melody sung solo with accompaniment, as in an opera or oratorio

coruscate: v
1. to emit vivid flashes of light; sparkle; scintillate; gleam.
2. to show spectacular technique or mastery.

Thanks for reading!