Hands of Creation

An ode is to these hands:

gifted by my mother and father.

Knuckles like ridges of a faraway desert,

the curves between fingers as soft as velvet dew petals,

the ecstatic fluxing waves of an ocean:

rising and falling.

These hands are soft,

inscribing change

into the emerald and ruby tablets of life. 

Blank paper is transmuted into

inkling symbols

teeming with lifetimes of pilgrimages.

These fingers are bridges

into the worlds beyond,

realms breathing within the liminal,

where a tear drop turns into a magnifying glass:

a portal to our shared collective rivers,

whispered wishes,

the loud bliss of primal aliveness

wisps of the dreamworld calling us…

quietly dripping down like stalactites

into our shared wells, aquifers and caves -

these are the waters of our humanity.

From these channels,

Creation germinates out of fertile soil,

whistling over canvas,

leaving her fingerprints,

the traces of immutable colors

permeating our life.

The lines in the palm of these hands

intersect, meet and split off

like the infinite paths of this life

we take, then forget, let go,

grasp, long for, or dive headlong into. 

These hands are alchemists,

that turn the sweet entropy 

into orderly chaos,

into a frozen image of impermanence,

a scripture,

a canvas,

a dance.

These hands are offerings,

simmering with Desire

to create new ways in which

we can immortalise this fleeting life

unto the Eternal mirror of awareness,

-Antheia