The spirals swirl
not one the same
for every finger
and every name.

Identity
in skin and lines
on appendages
that reach and pine
to belong
in a crowded world
where hands break
and fingers curl.

Deliver me
from this rusted space.
Take my soul,
leave not a trace.

Purgatory?
Heaven? Hell?
They're all the same.
Can't you tell?

The world will turn
even when we're gone.
The moon will rise
just as the sun.

Our fingerprints
will disappear.
Flesh and blood
crimson to clear,
just as this
the world will fade
from dust to dust,
the one fair trade.

Take not then
this life for death
take instead
my gentle breath.

Teach me then
to breath deep and long
to fill my lungs
and make them strong,
to brush my fingers
on another's tips
and learn to love
by touching lips;

for when I die
and lifeless lay
upon the ground,
no words to say,
at least then
I'll have lived a life.
I'd have learned to love
through pain and strife.