Hands of Reason


For most…

There comes a time
when needle and thread
has nothing to mend,
when little cheeks glow faint,
the pinching of color
having aged drab,
when life’s rose thorns
wave their goodbyes over and over…
again.

Our unique hands
can nurture a life,
can hold one in a death grip,
or willingly detach,
leave an intertwining
to become another iteration,
another discovery of one’s ten-digit journey.

For most everyone…

By these hands,
mates will be caressed,
births will be ushered in,
a new generation embraced by some,
used, rejected and discarded by others.

For with these hands
all types of defenses are held firm,
often snuffing out life by gavel,
gun,
vote,
and deception.

What consciousness would not cherish the potential of one’s hands,
knowing the simple touching of a stargazing lily
can bring tears of its pistil-clinging,
reminding us that like cupping a child’s face
with compassion’s simple touch of care
resides the truly being-here-now,
living an undeniable all is one,
one is all existence?

And…

For those of us who write,
through these appendages,
tendrils of the mind oblige words be made,
furthering ideas not yet born,
shake hands with reflection,
creating together-sounds of understanding,
perceptions needing to be heard,
embracing life’s simple imagination,
the desire only to be.

And lest forgotten…

Hands of reason
can also shield the mind’s exposure
to irrational persuasions.