burnt clay, melted iron

Bound and chained to motion

entirely rooted to living stones…

I am burnt clay.

Hot salty iron shone

rusting under golden light…

I am melted iron.

Light from a chemical fire

lit with eyes, ideas and views…

Who planted this perception of me?

Why did it grow to be nothing like me?

And then, breathing the night,

transpiring the day…

Change is coming this way.

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