There is a bit of ‘wordery’ concerning a centered point of being

Looking upon the hand there resides a movement, an orchestra, vibrations, sensation, and warmth.

Through yelling and rage to think of greener pastures free from the icy breath

Inside where there smiles

comfort for me.

X

Imagine a world where movements come together

Tips of fingers touch

and then, once it all again begins,

a choice of so many lives, so many realities,

Of course… (insert another picture I’m too lazy to draw here)

It is, all, good.