sometimes i see life in the palm of my hand and it stares back alive and i wonder why it feels so strange
is it really mine to hold or does it hold me in it's palm which as i struggle to look around
half opens and i shrink back into the darkness..dazzled by this dance of shadow and light
tentatively i reach out for the shadows.. fascinated, finding relief in it's 'familiar' folds
terrified of the light alien, strange, unknown.. till one day i slip and the palm opens
a little more and i feel the light.. scared to open my eyes.. cursing the fates to let this happen
missing the shadows.. the haven i had made.. i wait for that blow and lightning strikes
and the palm opens.. what is this freedom why do i fly
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