The masters hand

I take my stand against the masters hand
The controlling grip
My trembling lip

Firm will be my stand
with clenched hands
muscles taught poised to explode

Elastic tendons pulled tight ready to release
Yet mind over matter and in complete control
The tender twitch, such a gentle touch a delicate pull

Emotions that wax and wane
thoughts pounding provoked and provoking
Never to hurt

Discipline the art of managing
time and space
Knowledge with grace

Another portion
out of proportion
another human contortion

Bought and sold
the craft grows old
the hands of the master begin to tremble and shake

Age of none
Age of one
Age of many

No more
Know more
grow more

And yet here we are
set observing acting
we are the masters hand

In ours a grain of sand
In hours
The sands of time

Sublime the slave
to the hand
the master