My search for my lover lead me on a roam. The eyes meet, the match met, the ignite kept. A tiny flame of 'why,' all the same. The aim, the goal kept us on a roll until we were working at a lob. Íth became a job searching for his claim to fame. I was the same. In essence Íth was Job, passing the ethics game, becoming a metal worker, working with a burning forge, bellows fanning the flames, a silver smithy all his own.