Knowledge, thoughts, and dreams
come through our fingers. Hands that ever
reach
see all, strong, bitter as bark, dark in the rocks.
Joy is an arc, and constant happiness
tangible horns high in the summer air.
Manipulate, control, encircle, hold,
see change, learn truth through what our hands
enclose.
Ever most precious, stillness is ecstasy
under our fingers. Silent minds to touch
yearn their lives long. We but approach this trust
as, motionless and concentrate, we strive
to touch with lips like hands the bidden fruit.
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