The Sea of Hands

In a blurry half-sleep, the early spring chill

decided to keep me sitting quite still.

For in this cold morning, the sea of hands,

was cheering, roaring, in this inside land.

The flashes of light from every direction,

though not on my sight, but in my detection.

The stillness, in stands, as I sit and I gleam,

watched the sea of hands rejoice in true dreams.

And one moment passes, the bands are now playing,

another moment, the masses are fervently praying.

A minute, a voice, too much flashing light.

An hour, more voice; I suddenly fright.

Then it is done; it all disappears.

But how? Help me, someone; it's just not quite clear.

The lights have stopped flashing, the voices now quiet,

while explosions of sound are still not quite silent.

My mind wanted peace and out of this place,

while expressions of happiness shone on my face.

But in this half-sleep, the song of the sands

is now slowly winnowed by the sea of hands.

-LJ

13 May 2016