my hands my hands my hands

late on the everything,
I think upon the now,
for it is all we have.

a bright, low love,
lust for me.

I want to give up
in the long grass,
but I keep going.

two by two by heartache
in the state's return.

I am less than wisdom
and full of second guesses,
but at least I am sweet of relief.

maybe a natural storm,
maybe false.

always holding
on.