Tell the truth, but tell it slant. - Emily Dickinson

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door — Red — is the Fire’s common tint — But when the vivid Ore

Has vanquished Flame’s conditions — It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the Light
Of unannointed Blaze — Least Village, boasts it’s Blacksmith — Whose Anvil’s even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs — within — Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the designated Light
Repudiate the Forge —

Who has not found the heaven below
Will fail of it above.
God's residence is next to min,
His furniture is love.

I ASKED no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.

Brazil? He twirled a button,
Without a glance my way:
“But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show to-day?