Hands in the Music
Hands so soft and woven into silk
with sweet succulence and mother’s milk
and quiet rivulets in the still of the day
as the zephyrs roam and the breezes sway
and hands as powerful as the rolling seas
with superior strength like the proud oak trees
reaching into the heart with the sound of music
slicing through the walls with teeth and grit
commanding the spirit to break free and dance
into the melodic air with a strange exuberance
sending earthly thoughts into a bewildering maze
and reveling with the sound as the spirit obeys.
Hands in the music are unseen but seen
and all the empty spaces become a dream,
and all the dreams become a melange of sorcery
and sorcery transforms the emptiness into melody.
To the power of music all succumb to its strength
and lets the hands push you up to its very length.
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