Sunday There's

my hands. I see them. I'm even able to hear them, as I watch my fingers rub along this edge. I see what they can do, bringing feelings of the world into me; sending mine out into it. but I can't stop them trembling. I hold the world and hold its edge, but my grip is soon released. it's not a tremble from the world I'm passing on, it's trembling from elsewhere, somewhere. I can close my eyes to find it. I can maintain silence to hear its source. but I can't find it.... can you see it? can you measure it, name it, point to where it comes from? hold onto my hands?