River of Stones: day 5

Doused in criticism, the flint of shame ignites. Rejection and anger as mortar and pestle, grinding everything to a fine dust more precious than gold. The smallest amount transmutes the liquid metal, forging an amalgam stronger than any element. It can be pounded to a thin gilding, a fine and delicate filigree to embellish and beautify; stretched into wire, thin enough to weave or bind things to carry. It can withstand crushing forces yet bend like a reed in the summer breeze.  A tower can be built higher and with greater endurance with bars buried within the walls and foundation. It is only made from the harshest of environments, what should disfigure or consume, instead converts and transforms. Only from this crucible can the precious metal be made.

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