Midnight Steel

The furnace breathes a rhythm low and deep,
While shadows stretch across the silent floor.
The world outside is tethered fast to sleep,
Behind the weight of every bolted door.
A single spark ignites the quiet dark,
To forge a shape from embers, cold and gray—
It leaves behind a faint and glowing mark
Before the night yields ground to coming day.
No hurried words disrupt the steady hum,
Just heavy iron settling into place,
A quiet proof of what the hours become
When time moves slow within a empty space.