Untethered Hands

Maybe known is such,

that I yearn so much

for a sustaining crutch.

A sentimental touch.

I confess I was scared

from not being prepared,

nor being quite aware,

that you sit right there.

Reading a scattered mind,

searching to try and find

the larger scope of design

from what I’ve left behind.

As I write this quick letter,

storms I try and weather.

Found did I that together

vices leave us not tethered.

Together we can be better,

alone I can become fettered.

I am my own fortune teller;

I keep your warmth forever.

This peace that we share,

keep in mind I compare,

it to the dusk right where

I find my bed well aware.

That though life can consume,

through waves of monsoons,

shine so bright it is the moon

allowing light to write to you.

Friends, write what you can

with your untethered hands.

Set loose a glorious led band

so you might heal in the end.

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