I stare at my hands.
The bumps and indents resemble peaks and valleys.
The deep set lines are rivers flowing,
And the fine creases that my eyes strain to see
are streets and paths.
The masterpiece appears to be haphazardly drawn
but on closer inspection the connection is seamless.
These palms are the world,
-- each gesture brings movement to the universe.
I snap and cause sparks and forest fires.
I clap and shift tectonic plates.
When I clench my fists,
I lock up cities to protect them --
And when I open them once more,
the naked fields receive the sun.
I caught the moon between my thumb and forefinger
And so the tides were affected.
I gathered the stars with one wave and then sent them back.
My prints -- I've left everywhere:
The concealed evidence of my existence -
Worlds upon the world,
Upon the railing of the stairwell.