After Bysshe Shelley (Ozymandias)
Hands reaching the skies, the
Clouds that formed around the hand,
Weightless, floating that,
Was beaten and mock’d
Aligning them,
In a thoughtful prayer and
Blessing the
Wounded heart,
Minds broken that,
Helplessly abandoned a loneliness land to be fed.
by Natasha Parker
No.1 The Golden Shovel Series
