Author's Note: So I rarely write poetry. Like... never. However, Raistlin has succeeded in waking the Vogon in me. So sit tight and endure- the freeform torture will soon be over. )

Disclaimer: I don't own Raistlin... I just like to borrow him.

Forged
Hammer and anvil
Shaping, molding
Hot white steel
That glistens in the dark

Sparks and steel
Share a kiss
Burning ambition, searing obsession
Blemish the metal
As the hammer falls

A diminutive flaw
Unnoticed, unseen
A shadow on the blade
Painted over in crimson
His own life's blood

Passed through the fire
Tempered by force
It can only be honed
In the heat of suffering
Anvil of adversity
Hammer of the red moon
The forge of the Gods can be bitter and cruel

Razor-sharp, razor-deadly
Silver sheathed in a scabbard of dross
Lying in wait,
To be claimed, to be used
The crucible of magic
A soul has been forged