Poem "Was Broken; Is Beautiful"

I figured it'd be good to go in order, so here is my second poem. This one is more of a free verse.

A man brought a bronze shield through the door,

It's polished face dirtied and beaten,

The pieces bound by leather chain,

Just barley holding it's shattered frame.

The man brought it to the blacksmith and said "Here. Take it. It is useless to me now."

The blacksmith took the shield in his hands, carefully rubbing the grime away. "I can repair this." he replied.

The man just laughed, turning away. "It does not matter. It is used, it is broken. It is useless." and walked back through the door.

The blacksmith carried the battered shield back to his forge,

Taking up his tools of work.

"I will make this into something better."

And with that, he set to work.

He cut the chain,

The shield falling apart where it lay,

He took the pieces and put them in a stone bowl, placing them gently into the cradle of his forge.

He pushed the billows,

He fed the flames,

The fire burning bright and strong.

He removed the bowl from the flame,

Pouring the molten metal into small molds about his forge.

He worked quickly,

Every move precise,

Every blow firm,

Every piece perfect,

Every touch gentle.

The blacksmith worked through the night,

His hands working with masterful skill.

The molds now held small flower petals,

Each made of the broken shields bronze.

More metal was added,

Some of the smith's own work,

To add more petals to his final craft.

Each petal was placed on a golden plate,

Carefully secured with molten steel.

Every piece was placed perfectly,

Handled with incredible care.

The sun began to rise,

The night fading away,

But the smith did not notice;

He gazed upon his work, a smile on his face.

Before him lay a shield,

But not as it had been when it came,

The base was gold, with an oak support and strong leather strap,

Covered in a pattern of circling flower petals,

Each made with such care as to look real.

The outside layer altered between silver and bronze,

The second layer blue and green,

The third layer red and gold.

At the center and diamond shone,

Casting off a rainbow of light.

"This is my creation. It is not but a tool, but my most prized possession." the smith said, proud of his work.

He took up the final piece, placing it on his arm.

"This will be your place, with me. I will walk with you, and guide your action." the smith said,

And with that he set out to show his work to the world.

(c) Jacob Johnson