Terra

Her hands are stained russet red-

timeless,

fluid,

and yet lifeless.

The mother molds with the coarse clay,

sculpting her masterpiece from life’s salt spray,

remaking the sanctuary that was once lost,

using the tools of MoltenFire and frost.

Her creation grows with each passing spin,

building up to the inborn sin.

Tempest and alluvium will sculpt this lake

until the earth’s wait will quake,

and with a thread of fate,

this pot she'll collapse-

and in the subversion,

time will lapse.

The moon’s phases will pass again,

and beneath them,

a mother will re-sculpt her kin.