Such a beautiful but melancholy poem! Is it just the miserable fate of iron men？

dreaming of the scrapyard.

Somehow I enjoy feeling the tragic esthetics--a kind of unspeakable sublime, lofty and self-sacrificing beauty! Especially the last words which moved me deeply:

As I stare in those eyes
the salt water washes mine,
we share in the brine.

I guess after the iron men being melted in rivulets of fire, they are just like the phoenix, burnt but re-born. Maybe they will be cast into a new kind of statue.