All I know is a door into the dark.
Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting;
Inside, the hammered anvil's short-pitched ring,
The unpredictable fantail of sparks
Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water.
The old and rusting implements imply progress; with these objects unwanted and left behind. Though no longer practical, even for a traditional dying profession, they stand as a reminder of work done in the past that continues to build on today. As the ongoing sonnet will show, what he used to create and still does is of importance.
The Forge