Hands That Never Stay

They pass me by—eyes unseeing,

laughter echoing, never fleeing

toward the space I stand alone,

a name unheard, a heart unknown.

I reach for hands that never stay,

their warmth retreats, then fades away.

Perhaps they sense what I have feared—

that I am empty, nothing here.

They speak of worth, of things to give,

of value shaping how we live.

Yet, when I ask, the silence grows—

what must I learn? What must I know?

I wander lost in shadowed thought,

chasing value never caught.

A weightless ghost, I drift unseen,

a question mark where worth had been.

If knowledge builds what love demands,

then I must carve with empty hands—

molding something yet unknown,

so one day, I’m not alone.