Being in the world-Innate Melodies
I bare these hands into the world unknown
To callous amongst the graves and groves we sew.
These hands that give me my name and shape
These hands that carry the world and its weight
These hands that keep my heart at low
I bare these hands for only me to show
It must have been these hands that molded the clay
That my father’s father’s father broke down till his final days.
They carved and they sewed. They hammered and shaved
‘Til out came my hands free to express whatever they wanted to say.
These hands had no shape to my mind that couldn’t escape
From this vessel that these hands inhibited everyday
For these hands couldn’t feel what it was they had to make
For these hands had no eyes to see what was at bay, at stake.
But that was the problem when I tried to see with my hands
Because they were only made to use; to mark my brand
My brand is my name, my style, my take
My brand is the music, the art these hands make
My brand is a feeling, a vibrato to resonate….
My hands feel with the heart, no other rules shall it obey.
So I stopped groping my way while also trying to see,
because these hands were already conducting beautiful music right in front of me.