The Hand of God

The hand that snaps lives into existence,
A bud that never closes, swinging to a willing mind.
Mapping destinies into existence

The mere possibility of a pat upon my back bringing me to my knees
It reaches through my core, disregarding distance.
And leads me when I walk blindfolded into darkness.

Same hands knocked on my heart with so much persistence.
His grip is strong yet his touch feels like roses
I am a garden God tends with so much consistence.

Vera