They Are Only Hands
They Are Only Hands hand stories
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asthete
asthete i find peace in the rain
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
They are only hands. They really are only hands after all.

They Are Only Hands

They really are only hands after all.

They only have four fingers and one thumb to boast about.

They only have four fingers and one thumb to boast about. Yet what are hands really?

What are hands if not the only thing used to touch the world.

What are hands if not the only thing used to touch the world. If not the only thing used to feel?

For without hands what would music be to us?

What would the textures of grass and wood and fur be to us?

What would the world itself be, if not for hands?

Would all the skyscrapers be looming above us?

How would the tree-houses and beds and dinner be made?

How would the sonnets and poems and novels be written,

How would the sonnets and poems and novels be written, if not for hands?

How would the paintings be painted on the ceilings of chapels?

Would the buildings crumble before us and the books and music turn to dust,

if hands had never been?

Would the paintings disappear by the brush stroke?

How would we hold each other?

How would we hold other hands?

But hands are only hands after all,

But hands are only hands after all, Aren't they?

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