What are these hands

but idle toys,

with mastery of my universe

forfeit to divine creation,

and free will

subject to the purpose

of exaltation and worship,

in the balance,

salvation and damnation,

my person

captured in a purgatory of the living.

a physical limbo

a social war

waged against a realm of possibilities,

what ifs

and maybes,

maybe not's

and if so's,

punished by belief

and fervent opinion,

ropes of intolerance

and whips denying

the evils of uncertainty,

brutal tongue lashings,

cursing a soul seemingly


a war against

the fear of inevitability,

the uncertainty of hopes

driven into minds and hearts

as divine gifts

empty promises

filled with meaning

by devotion,

empowered by imagination,

the void of

crucial humanly aspects,

But No,

I am wrong,

a corruption to young minds,

forsaking grace and eternal life:

an enemy of faith,

damned by conviction,

prisoner of proposed fate.

So what are these hands

if not but idle toys?