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.