Hands

Hands

Small, gentle, firm, not too strong, yet not fragile
Every movement results in something beautiful
Each links together to paint a wave.
Sometimes smooth rolling on a legato
Sometimes crashing crescendo
Sometimes spraying white staccato
All the time moving in one motion,
In one rhythm,
In one melody,
For one purpose.
Small, yet able to stretch beyond what the eye perceives.
Stretching to reach the unreachable
One key to the next,
Crawling Up the treble
Down the base.
At times, the two will join in faith
Seeking in to the spiritual realm, for peace
Speaking to the King of Kings, Jehovah Shalom.
Other times, the right will work alone
With wood and graphite
With rubber and leather
With fork, knife, and spoon.
The other hardly works alone
Except only with steel worms biting deep into the flesh.
Pain flashes constantly and calluses fuse together
But these worms hypnotically forces to keep going.
One day, to receive the reward
Perhaps diamond, perhaps pearl
Seeking, yet not desperate
For timing is everything
And Jehovah Jireh, meets my every need.



27. January 2005
English class



What in the world was I thinking?