If I had want of anything
In the entire world,
It would be of hands,
That mold clay into shapes.
Shapes that serve a function.
Shapes that piece together,
The fragments of hope,
You forfeit to despair.
For it is hands alone!
That knead tirelessly,
That truly make the world move.
Not wit, charm,
Nor these majestic tapestries of words.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 4:18 AM UTC
If I had want of anything
In the entire world,
It would be of hands,
That mold clay into shapes.
Shapes that serve a function.
Shapes that piece together,
The fragments of hope,
You forfeit to despair.
For it is hands alone!
That knead tirelessly,
That truly make the world move.
Not wit, charm,
Nor these majestic tapestries of words.
