From My Heart To my Hands

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O Maker of my minute shininess!

O Canvas to my colors frantically pouring to nowhere!

O tireless labor for my limitless limits,

O the one and only translator for my untranslatable self.

O faithful creator of a whistling sound for my silence falling from dark into bright!

I sing of you – I step aside and sing of you this very night

When thousands of hearts and millions of hands grasp onto one another

in the loudest quietness of waves

so that they may together float and not sink--

I adore you for obeying and disobeying

For I deserve to be listened to every moment but am with flaws–

I praise you that you write or make or paint or touch

More than you hold other hands

You are you alone, I do not define you, yet you grant me a new identity every time you wake

And announce me with a new name every time you move

I know I would have been long exploded without you unloading the things

Little by little,

And I bow in apology that I leave you still when I alone am taking a flight

I apologize for not having been built to cover your struggles of birthing a galaxy outwardly

I apologize for sometimes not wanting to,

And for having the final say at those times.

I apologize for settling at the thought of self-sufficiency every now and then

For contently saying “no” when I force you to do as “yes”

I know I am not a void thing without you but the opposite

Yet I adore to have moved with you in every way possible

I go before you as it is designed not as a master but as a gentle guide, for

What you touch I shall taste and analyze its sweetness

What you hold temporarily I shall store everlastingly

What you compose I shall adore with limitless satisfaction

What you stumble upon as an end I shall courageously bridge over

What you cannot grasp I shall approach and it is not meaningless – it is never meaningless, what you do, or what I am.

How thankful, how humble shall I be before you--

Even a letter to you is a letter composed by you.