In a temple made in ode to the shallow nature of adolescence and pretension,
I was introduced but ore, bore from the linear form of societal ‘nature’ and ever sightly more released from the bonds motherhood,
I began to become man-made.
From my raw and crude element the nature of this place provoked a chemical change in which I lost my composure,
Melting into something to which I had no clue.
Smelted, I was but a weakened and untouchable substance.
For many years I pondered why I was plucked from what I was and so cruelly and brutally destroyed,
But in my naive youth I did not know that my destruction was but a form of creation.
For many years I pondered, what had happened to me, why I could not be touched growing cooler and cooler over the years slowly trickling into a mold.
I glowed a glaring orange of passion, a more solid and physical presence.
But yet still too hot to the touch, for I would scold the flesh of any who dared.
But when you burn that hot, your fires die down.
I rapidly cooled, and when the hammer struck it was too late…
I became nothing more than bent and broken steel.
Only then after being truly broken, throwing all my hopes into the transformation to fall short and staggeringly far that I realise what had happened, what was currently happening.
For the first time I could see my paths laid in front of me.
I asserted that the hand pick me up, shove my broken body into the molten fires and strike me whilst I am hot.
I burned in great agony and with great anticipation,
The hammer struck my re-shaped and previously ravaged body into something new deviating from it’s original design,
Flat into shape.
Though it was a quick job,
My dents were filled with carvings and cracks filled in with gold.
Emphasising my imperfection as a form of beauty.
To this day I am still being fitted with intricate detailings and new carvings, but my body is whole,
Built ready for purpose.