Look at the empty hand
It is not filled with truth
Burdened with falsehoods
Birth, life, death, wisdom
All that was, is,
What might be
Everything is its mistress
It grasps in desperation
Nothing is its master
Possibly
Form forces
Its ignorance
That which is named real
Is not what it touches
It is an empty hand
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
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Love Tinka