And the first people were made with clay, divine fingers, shaping
mixing with water, molding a type of living rock.
They slept until the wind
filled their lungs.
And when they awoke they learned to talk,
and walk, and run, teaching each other games, discovering miracles
in the forest, and eating pristine fruit.
It wasn’t until later that hate was born, having fermented
from a bad seed.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”