Natural Resource

By J.E.Meade - 0 Comments
Natural Resource



My hand touched this piece of earth.
It's shinning color dyed my hands.
My hands moved and recreated.
My fingers formed lines and curves.

Sweat slid from my chin,
And collided with hands that now belonged to a goddess.
It slid to what has changed.

From what was taken from it's mother,
To scarring it's capture,
To what lies before us in its new shape.
It's improved form.
It's restricted image.
It's forced compliance to the rules of humans.

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