The lines on my hands are dotted,
and I’m waiting in vain to fill the space with some clarity.
I see a level head, yet my heart line looks faulty and untrusting.
Criss-crosses are etched into the line of my life.
Weaving themselves outward, they touch each aspect of my being-
Representing deep waters from out of the blue; which subsequently alters
until I’m submerged in wisdom.
Although my hands are a gift in the way of my future,
I’m stuck in this present moment- wandering.
I try to listen but fear that I won't hear is trapped in my ears.
I look to my treading feet...
they won’t speak.
In the silence of myself i’ll find truth that not even time will tell.
Seek answers within, search no longer.
In, out.
My breath, eloquent in all its simplicity,
gives me a map of the wind’s movement, the earth’s energy
and my soul’s path.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
The lines on my hands are dotted,
and I’m waiting in vain to fill the space with some clarity.
I see a level head, yet my heart line looks faulty and untrusting.
Criss-crosses are etched into the line of my life.
Weaving themselves outward, they touch each aspect of my being-
Representing deep waters from out of the blue; which subsequently alters
until I’m submerged in wisdom.
Although my hands are a gift in the way of my future,
I’m stuck in this present moment- wandering.
I try to listen but fear that I won't hear is trapped in my ears.
I look to my treading feet...
they won’t speak.
In the silence of myself i’ll find truth that not even time will tell.
Seek answers within, search no longer.
In, out.
My breath, eloquent in all its simplicity,
gives me a map of the wind’s movement, the earth’s energy
and my soul’s path.
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