I hold this hand like it is the most precious thing in the world

I hold this hand like it is the most precious thing in the world,
delicate and strong, beautiful and long,
it is smooth and soft and warm.
It feels like my own,
and not because it is in my possession,
but because it is the smallest parts of me.
Deep and reaching, this hand is microscopic and vibrant,
Breathing oxygen and replenishing my body,
It is one and it is a million, billion, trillion.
So powerful, this hand could shake me with only a fist,
closed and tight, i crush under it’s weight
if only with my eyes.
But allow it time and give it love
and it spreads its fingers as wings
wide and proud,
it says I can hold forever;
and i want to walk into that sweet abyss
that chasm so wide,
and when it closes,
shuts so tight to obliteration,
I will ooze the smallest, sweetest liquid:
pure love.