Words From My Hands
By John Herlihy

The words lie there restlessly;
They seem to spill from my hands.
I try to gather them all together,
With a force nothing can withstand.
The words squeezed as if drop by drop,
Heaven’s pure rainbow overarching on top.
Living seems like writing all the day long,
Words spilling from the page like a song.
The day is simply filled up with more words,
The words sounding like the singing of birds.

Some words drawn from quills with colored ink,
Others mysteriously etched with invisible ink.
A few words carved on my heart in indelible ink;
All the words take me by the hand to the brink.
A horizon beyond which lies the great unknown,
With mysteries held aloft that God has always known.
My words have light and shadows only found within;
A ghost has taken up residence to hide his secret grin.
Bewitched, the words lie on the page with little glare;
They slip out of my hands as if I were not even there.