Nimble Fingers, Humble Hands Poem by Airohng Liebe

I sit here,
My fingers nimble.
I shan't know what this all means
Until I am finished.
I choose to keep things a mystery,
For mystery shall be enough for me.
I choose to live a life of love,
With passion enough for three and me.
I want to raise a family,
In due time, in due time.
I want to watch a tree through its seasons,
For nothing is more magnificent than Mother Nature's humble hands.
I wish my hands could be as humble,
For they have committed many sins.
They have coincided with a brain that insisted upon
Biting the hand that has fed me,
And have written mournful words which lead
To a temporary destruction of sanity.
I wish to be as humble as my Creator,
For that is the ultimate fulfillment in life, I believe.