These are our hands,
And this is how we use them
To make shapes of our lives.
We carve meaning into moments
That shape us and give us names
To take through into the distance.
These are our hands,
And this is how we use them
To cling to times just passing by.
Clutching them tight to our hearts
And calling them memories.
These are our hands,
And this is how we use them.
Holding out empty palms,
Reaching with imploring spread fingers
Far out into unknowable futures.
