I saw my hands in a dream
They were small and far away
What did it mean?
They didn’t seem to be mine
I looked at them in great detail
Every aspect defined
But still they didn’t seem mine.
Their size was due to the distance I thought
But the finger nails were tragically aged and the thought of death was persistent.
Then I remembered the rivers that flow
Meandering down to the depths of the sea
And the waves and the tides
And the weighty drag of the undertow