The swordmaster stood by his furnace,
     contemplating cherry coals within.
His kimono hitched higher on shoulders,
      his assistants he sought and called in.
"Today we begin a new work,
     bring out the anvil and tongs."
Journeymen moved at his bidding,
     seeking again the old songs.

The master went forth from his fire,
     to find the best steel to begin.
He brought that particular ingot,
     and dark coal dust from its bin.
He called his workers close to him,
     the heavy forge fires to stoke.
The ingot was heated within them,
     the impurities turning to smoke.

"Fine metal," an assistant said to him,
     as the master lifted steel from the blaze.
"All we have left is to beat it,
     into the shape you'd have made."
No words as the master bent forward,
     the first ringing blow to land.
"Now sprinkle the coal dust upon it,"
     though soft, his voice a command.

Steel flattened into a new shape,
     longer and thinner to stay?
But to the dismay of the worker,
     the master folds metal like clay.
Hammers on glowing metal,
     coal dust now folded within.
Steel halves welded one to the other,
     in fire to heat once again.

The bellows are working,
     the air rushing through.
The metal is white-hot,
     the flames, they are blue.

"Take it up once again,"
     says the calm deepening voice.
Songs keep the rythm as hammer blows fall,
     dust, as it's sprinkled, almost looks moist.
Folded and welded again and again,
     the forgers work on day by day.
One worker wondered at the cycle he saw,
     five hundred times they will say.

At last it was ended,
     the blade forged unbent,
Shaped from this steel,
     where shades came and went.
Journeymen gathered, the master looked at their fruit,
     and found it both bending and strong.
It never would shatter or brittle be,
     an edge to last ages long.

"Master, what is the secret
     of coal dust and welding?"
"One of patience, my lad, for you see,
     out of dust and pounding a melding;
This is what we've achieved:
     heat and pressure turn coal into diamonds,
now the spirit of diamond's within."
     The swordmaster once again turning, beckons.