Purified through burning
Gold bubbles in the pot,
burning torment of mind.
enough is enough.
Anger rages at injustice,
vile hatred spews forth,
it bubbles to the top.
Trouble burns and boils,
and more rage pops.
The impure scraped away.
Darkness glows red,
around the boiling pot.
Trouble burns bright.
Purest gold remains,
after melting in painful flame.
The filthy dross drawn out.
Gold that can be shaped,
from the fires of torment.
The impure now gone.
Bright shining as the sun;
joyful in eternal rays
the gold is pure forever
Bio: Chris Bunton is a writer, poet and blogger.
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