The Palm Of My Hand

The world in the palm of my hand, the image of intercontinental dust at my feet, a final release of pain and fury of which no one has ever understood. To be met with a single tear that sprouts a bud of love from the dust to rebirth life once again, to spark a flame within that serves as a benchmark in rehabilitation of a single soul. With the world upon my hand creates a wake of guilt about my aura, to dwindle on the edge of destruction and creation, to ponder evil with good. . . Fate unknown, hope in ash, join hands with the other side, embrace in the raw feeling of being.