On Gentleness

The fire of all the world at your fingertips,

The earth swallows at your command,

We cower in fear,

We live in hope

That holy lightning wil not strike.

But your fingertips open each petal in spring,

You watch over each step that I dare take.

Like a hen over her chicks;

Like a mother over her children

You embrace divinely

and you care.

 

With destruction at your fingertips,

you choose not to

and Love me still

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