My Eyes; My Hands

My reflection is in my eyes

And in my hands

They are always moving

Trying to find an abode

Trying to find a cause

Looking upon the distant faces

With no color to define them

Trying to reach out and feel

Trying to laugh out and cry

Until they come to a relaization

If they cannot see, then they must create

And thus they point their magic

Upon anything they find

Blank Paper turns into art

Blank Walls get filled to the brink

Blank Minds get excited with hope

Blank Computers transform into colored adventures

They bring color, life, and justice

To the Blank world that surrounds them.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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