Fire and ice have formed my body—my heart—my soul—and my life’s philosophy.
Fire and Ice have formed me—and today I will claim my branch
on the staff tree, for fire and ice have formed me—I will walk no more with head hung lowly.
And for this I need no permission—it has been rightly earned
through years of perdition.
All of the stiffness and strength wrought from the cold
touch of hammer has been matched with the flexibility borne of the heat from
many pyres.
I’ve been on fire.
But the healing rain came to quench the flame,
Just in time to preserve grains—
The tiny fibers of my being, now annealed into one firm
feeling.
The steel winged butterfly has been formed.
From fire and ice I was born.
And it is fire and ice that I will face until the day my
grave is adorned.
Through fire and ice, mire and strife, my visage and armor
have been honed.
I will take flight no matter what prayers or curses have
been intoned.
The future years may take their toll and further test the
stuff I’m made of…
But in the end…
When truth is told and all that was transient has faded and
worn off…
This steel winged butterfly won’t fail to fly…
No matter the weather, ware, or temperature, nothing will
corrupt my alloy.
I am the steel winged butterfly…
Fearless and ready to plunge into the blue unknown…
Without doubt or a moment’s hesitation…
Spread my wings...
And take flight.
So here’s my story...my fight…
Here is told, the history of the Steel Winged Butterfly’s Flight…
