Finding My Way

While I listen,

I watch hands that will flail,

a purpose, a manner, a passionate desire,

to know, to understand,

we reach for our grasp,

our cathartic tour through life,

some sojourn, a journey, for some a quiet discard,

from whence we came.

I wonder though about hands,

how defined are we really,

where do the surprises come from,

state of mind,

state of hypocrisy,

a societal dreamscape

carries the weight of that which we have

become.

I’d like to know peace,

if that is something we can stroll toward,

with every sound around us,

whether the beautiful chord of gee,

or a vibration, some energy beyond

our narrow scope.

I would then find solace,

this could soon be my piece

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