In my Hands


There is something……in my hands. My palms are trembling, shaking..they are barely able to…to hold on, hold up the  – what shall I call it? ..I am afraid, for it is fragile. I cannot see it. My eyes were never good at seeing but I know, I JUST KNOW that I mustn’t turn my hands, mustn’t turn them away from the sun.

It moves, by God, it is as if unseen tendrils gently quiver in the humble embrace that my hands present. Is it shivering? Is it cold? I don’t know, but I know that this thing – I dare not describe it yet – this thing, it lives. Oh and how it lives but it is tender and tenderness is no good for protection.

I run in circles and know not where to go. What does one do when one holds in ones hands – pure potential. The possibility of a journey, of something majestic, of something as vast as the skies. I dare not drop it, must not drop it but how can I keep it from slipping through my hands. There are moments when it appears as if thousands of kernels of unseen potential slowly trickle through those imperfect hands of mine.

It is starting to rain now and the drops are heavy..they are precise. I stretch my arms towards a corner in the sky where the sun still lingers….yet… pain..I can feel it. An immense aching…a unseen tendrils are torn apart and reform and get ripped and fuse once more but the rain is relentless and so large….so large….

I crouch low and throw my back against the torrents and hold my hands close against my frantic heart. I am blocking the rain and it seems a reprieve. This is what I can do I whisper to myself..shield it, protect it, keep it safe…even if I drown..even if the torrents sweep me away. The rain brings pain and gets stronger,…I endure the onslaught but less and less do I feel it moving; it quivers ever so faintly in my hands.

The SUN! I realize, I shout, I pant…I am holding my hands in shadows…and the light is life and life is waning, so fast…in my hands. I turn my face and glimpse the faintest of light in the furthest of corners but I KNOW, I am sure of it, that in my shadow … something will die today…. upon eternity…if my hands remain…sheltered from the sun.

So I throw my hands upon the sky and hold them high….I beg and pray and my heart is breaking for every howl of pain that tender tendrils feel as the rain falls down…without compromise or mercy. I feel myself a torturer of innocence, a traitor and betrayer of trust….I feel myself an exploiter of a vulnerability so great that my despair is driving me mad and driving me onwards as I race and stumble and jump towards the smallest corner of the furthest sky.

The elements battle on and what shall become of my soul I do not know but I KNOW that there is but one way, one journey, and one path to take if tender tendrils of pure potential are to refrain from disappearing amongst all this uncertainty.

So I race towards the distant sun and am running evermore.


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