In the palm

In the palm

In the palm of Your hand, I rest.

Your trickling scars of sacrifice

easing passage

through pain-filled passions.

This hand built continents from dust

smiting nothingness into tangibility

created life out of void.

In this palm I rest,

yet in creation’s grip I wait

for an eternal touch.
My name is written here,
between careworn crevasses,
in luminescent love
and careful spelling:
not pencilled in for easy erasing
but strong and underlined
in permanent blood.