In this cruciable furnace, the metal melts

Under the intense heat and pressure

The impurities are burned away, leaving only the purest essence

The alchemist watches with keen eyes, waiting for the right moment

To pour the liquid gold into a mold of his design He hopes to create something beautiful, sublime

A masterwork of art and science, a memento of his skill and devotion

But he knows the risks correlated to the dangers of the fire

He knows that one mistake could ruin his entire creation

Or worse, explode the furnace and end his life He works with care and precision, following his intuition

He trusts the process, he trusts the metal, he trusts himself He believes in his vision, he believes in his potential, he believes in his destiny His heart, a crucible furnace.

He is the metal, he is the gold He is the alchemist, he is the artist,

he is the creator

He pours the gold into the mold, forming a shape of his choice

A ring, that pendant – a coin and a crown, and a statue, and a sword

He admires his work, feeling a sense of pride and joy

He polishes and engraves it, adding a touch of gold and life

He gives it a name, a meaning, and a purpose

He has concocted something new and distinct, something that reflects his soul

He has, through the cauldron, transformed the metal into something more than gold

He has reflected himself through his craft, he has shared his bounty with the world

He has accomplished his quest, he has fulfilled his role,

He is the crucible furnace, he is metal, he is the gold

He is the alchemist, he is the crafter, the creator