In His Hands

In His Hands

The whole world, in his hands

Seeing clearly in the void of where he stands

His worries glimmer of hope like fireflies

Casted with infinite truth, riddled with white lies

The universe needs not to walk among him, rather stretches its reality

Gripping to dead facts to maintain his sanity

Existence in sense, loving clatter within its peculiar sounds

Echoes in eternity since he last saw the ground

He's got the whole world in his hands