The lines of our hands are pieces
Of a puzzle that can only be assembled
Once

The lines of our hands are wires
Vibrating to be twisted together
Once

When your hand touches mine,
Just a touch to begin, the pieces fall
Once

When your hand touches mine,
The wires scrape softly in spark
Once

Our hands are burnished brass,
Waiting to be softened to liquid
Once

Fingers don't interlace,
Because there is no need
Once

Lines in flesh merge;
Roadmaps to destinations on
The Horizon

One hand on another, contact is joined
And all of the circuits connect.
A new life is born.

Jesus looks down in awe,
Of a miracle he'd forgotten
Once