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Literature Text
i ask myself a question
to which i have no answer
for every answer i have
is too easy to contradict.
what is precious to me?
what could i not live without?
what is something for which i would cry?
and without which i cannot live?
at first i thought it was easy!
"i would die without sight!" i could say
but without my sight, i can still hear music
and i can still sculpt with my hands
"then what about hearing?" i suggest
"i would die without my music"
but without my hearing i could still live,
i can still draw with my hands
"then what about my voice?" i venture
"without singing what would i be"
but without my voice i know i could live
i can still write with my hands
"then what about my legs?" i hazard
"to never dance again!"
but i could still live without my legs
for i can still knit with my hands
then the answer dawns on me.
of course it has been quite plain.
without my sight, hearing, legs
i can still write and knit and draw
but without my hands i cannot sculpt
without my hands i cannot draw
without my hands i cannot write
without my hands i cannot knit.
i would die without my hands
but what of you who reads these words,
what couldn't you live without.
a critics eye, you say?
a musicians ear perhaps?
a singers voice you think?
a runners legs by chance?
or perhaps, like me, you could not live
without your precious artists hands
to which i have no answer
for every answer i have
is too easy to contradict.
what is precious to me?
what could i not live without?
what is something for which i would cry?
and without which i cannot live?
at first i thought it was easy!
"i would die without sight!" i could say
but without my sight, i can still hear music
and i can still sculpt with my hands
"then what about hearing?" i suggest
"i would die without my music"
but without my hearing i could still live,
i can still draw with my hands
"then what about my voice?" i venture
"without singing what would i be"
but without my voice i know i could live
i can still write with my hands
"then what about my legs?" i hazard
"to never dance again!"
but i could still live without my legs
for i can still knit with my hands
then the answer dawns on me.
of course it has been quite plain.
without my sight, hearing, legs
i can still write and knit and draw
but without my hands i cannot sculpt
without my hands i cannot draw
without my hands i cannot write
without my hands i cannot knit.
i would die without my hands
but what of you who reads these words,
what couldn't you live without.
a critics eye, you say?
a musicians ear perhaps?
a singers voice you think?
a runners legs by chance?
or perhaps, like me, you could not live
without your precious artists hands
wow, well i have been watching korean tv shows and in one of them, the potters hand gets stepped on and i guess it's been bugging me more than i thought it was. now that it's a poem, maybe i can forget about the problem.
© 2013 - 2024 selftaughtartist1
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