The Tales Of Mikey Wiseman

I was born with these hands.
So tiny and fragile,
Filled with potential,
Yet undiscovered and waiting...

As life formed my conscious,
And I began to wake,
They grew.

From early on,
They had to learn the meaning of tough,
As well as diligence and perseverance;
Their education far greater than schooling at times.

These hands calloused to abuse,
Blistered under pressure.
They got cut, they bled,
Stopped moving at times because of pain.

All the while they formed character,
Forged the nuclear core of my being,
Broke and remade my spirit countless times...
Willfully made sure that life never quit.

These hands have held the softest of touches,
The strongest of wills.
Thankfully, they have created...more than destroyed.
And yet, they remain waiting.

They are iron.
Stronger than the hardest steel,
More durable than the oldest stone.
They possess the fortitude of a forgotten soldier.

I do not know where they will take me,
I only know their trust.
Tried and true,
They've never failed, and will always pave the way.

Our future remains to be seen, these hands and me.
Waiting to explore and adventure ,
Following only the path we create together.

...These Hands...

Mikey Wiseman