Nature Fram'd

What promises he made me! What glories did he paint! Power, and beauty … to create and not destroy, and to him I gave all I knew.

With my bones he built his towers, with my blood he washed them clean. With my heat he shaped his people and with my breath he blankets them. And then, a little boon … a bauble, he asks, to receive his power and keep us all.

I was lawless, but I was free, then my own light blinded me. A prison now his walls have made and that bauble merely the last link of chain.