Once just dust
cell or static
blown by any
breath to me
I’d bend like
bones snapping.

But tumble and
tumble till dust
becomes rock
well within the
hard mountain
heart does the
crucible purify.

Do not pressure
and time forge
the floating dead
god incapable
or just unwilling
to smile slight
at Hell bound
life imperfections
in diamonds
forged from living.

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