316 Hands

37 years have left him bone weary, he now begs a saviour to walk together.

Komm gib me deine haand they sang when he was little
Rarely had he that opportunity to hold a girl oh so tight
All his life he'd been dreaming whilst he kept a whittle
Away at himself in the hopes he'd not be alone at night

A mention of stroking hair reminded him of college
When he'd spent an entire hour tousling a friend's hair
That girl is forgot now, her face unclear - he's on the edge
Of sanity and lost memories, oh the years and the wear

Suicide is painless they sang to a young boy still a virgin
That was during a war when he was worried of decline
Now he wonders should he have that fear, be in chagrin
At the thought he'll never find a girl beside whom to shine

The 2 that wanted him were both on the rebound
And not really compatible with his mood and vision
For he'd a special work that to the lord would redound
The timeless work of the Gita, uniting his only mission

As Gibran said, would that he'd be a body's peacemaker
Turning the rivalry of its elements into integral oneness
37 years have left him bone weary, he now begs a saviour
To walk together so that the cosmic play they'd witness