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.