Manos

How tough are these hands? My fingers are bent & bowed. The strung muscle and bone, reach out to hold lead and gold, but they are too heavy. My tissue and sinew crave the sensation of silk. But that too can splinter and therefore, is heavy. Bloated, open, and splayed. Pleading for rain, but too, water is heavy. The wind is too thick. The air is too harsh. So I set my cravings down gently, forever do us part. How tough are these hands? They have been tried and are tired. Next time, may I not reach through the burden of desire.