Hands (6.5.09)


Hands move slowly

Consistent, smooth

A tantric, elegant

Cog centered groove

Greased in teeth

That mould and meld

The every moment

The seconds felled

Rings exposed

Harnessed by chimes

That always, every

Climax rhyme

To crescendos kind

Crescendos cruel

The 'I am god'

'I am a fool'

The split is taken

Memory committed

Then the next

Nothing omitted

That offers extension

Chronological miles

High and mighty

That all the while

Move away

From lives that were

Gathers the present

Seldom confers

The voice of reason

Echoes of past

That drag the screaming

On top, on task

For futures only

Unfold, evolve

From hands that nurture

Caress, connect and solve


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