Sun Worshipper

I'm clinging to rust pulsing rock.

My hands clutch into wise sandstone.

One would think that there would be a pain,

But the rich rock mixes with my blood,

And heals this body with a sunshine kiss.

The Copper Gods smile down on me,

and paint my skin ancient design. 

I kneel down on crimson sandstone.

Happily submitting to the warmth,

I  am a slave to the russet man.

The cerulean sky makes me brave.

I've been cut away from the marble,

And sent down to bronze-sun-worshipers. 

Who knew the Coral Cliffs would cause,

this flaxen soul to invigorate?