Your scratches are beautiful

In the face of the earth, you rise and shine.

With bushes and hills' mystical divine.

Thou sprint the ground in dexterity.

Yet mountain tops felt thine melancholy.

You aren't mute though gullible and numb.

Delicate, pure as the blossomed flower.

Once freely plucked by a careless sower.

Stagnant scum you lived where sadness succumb.

Thou art a material in the fuss of the world.

Messy, eccentric, fluid, transparent, and bold.

You're from charcoal to diamond, precious as gold.

Beautifully humbled and inspired by the stories of old.