Furnace

The Master, with nearly deceptive ease, moltens a life of perfection. Complete in every regard, lacking not even in the most minute of detail.

Myself, I struggle with gauntleted hands to forge a masterpiece. Perspiration beads, pauses, then tracks a downward path from brow to the precipice of the chin. Hammer, flame, and forger's tongs blur together in the struggle of creation

Failure.

Human frailty is reflected in its marred and imperfect surface. Another unpleasant stepping stone to perfection is taken in stride.

Deficiency is thrown again into the merciless flame; it is consumed.

At length, glowing, shapeless matter is removed from Vulcan torment. Another venture is made to mold the molten element, dripping with unbounded potential, into something of immortal greatness. A testament to the ages. A true masterpiece.

Weakness is discarded, Dross is comsumed. and through ceaseless revision, a form emerges. Imperfect still, but a touchstone closer to greatness

Set again in fervent heat, the process continues. Perspiration ceases not; arms and tools move in heightened harmonic symphony.

Improved Failure.

This is the all consuming denominator. The Engine of Creation, the Element of Pure Refinement.

Progression.