I held my yesterdays on my brows;
Of perspirations in dire need of thought,
The in-betweens of what could have been and what should have;
I hold my today on my body;
Marks of scars created of seconds passed;
During days in labours of mindlessness in throws of what it needs to be but not;
In mindfulness of nights that passion is alive and is awakened to bear another second;
A minute, an hour into the new passionless days
My hands I hold for my tomorrows;
For the path unknown; but history is rich in treasures of these hands I behold;
It created music of the soul;
Of letters of the heart;
Gifted and given nourishment to my yesterdays and my today;
These hands bore the history of masters; of great minds.
My forefathers bore truth of these hands that can and may provide the future of magical fortunes of endless possibilities;
Of future bright to shed the gift that these hands bear.
My tomorrows will be held by these hands;
Of sacrifices that I will bear to reach what my forefathers had achieved;
To live a life of fulfillment for the gift given is shared;
Whether this gift may be giving fortune or loss;
Or to bear the fruit of my brows perspirations and my battered body of today;
Of what; we will see. I for one, am ready for my hands to hold my sunrise and my new moons;
My hands are my tomorrows.