My flesh and I are the earths crust
Able to bend, relax, accommodate, adjust
Calm and cold like spring break on the beach in winter
Peaceful as a luncheon on shaded grass
While psyche stands beneath in heat
The judgmental magma ready to scorch
Stress causing fractures
With strain causing quakes
Caring not for things learned in lesser degrees
Rather to keep my doors wooden instead of steel
Though Survival of the fittest prompts eruption
To judge volcanically and renew beliefs
Casting the callow into flames
But I build small islands in the ocean
Baiting fish to land
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