Hand on the handing hand,
The hand that writes in the sand,
Handing the truth [inscribed] to understand.
Handed down the generations—
Mended beyond recognition—
Even truth has become corrupt, in a world of infinite option.
Handed [to] us was the choice
To follow right or wrong,
Yet we dare not raise our voice, make our choice, and so the world stays stagnant.
Hand that writes, hand that seeks,
Hand that creates and feels,
Let reality soak through the film of amorphous and ambiguous zeals.
Hand that holds the fruit we need,
To see, to keep going, to believe
In something bigger than us–a miracle called an honest life.
About the Creator
Bianca Wargo
Psychology and English Writing double major at Kean U
1 Thessalonians 4:3-8
Leaving my old writing up to go back sometimes and see how God's changed me to be better.
PODCAST: Gold Scars (available on Spotify & Anchor)
insta/TikTok: @biancawargo
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