I have always believed that the hands are extensions of the soul. They are powerful examples of the true collective mind. Hands can lead another to salvation, or damn ourselves and others to the eternity of regret. They are extended in kindness or raised in anger. Because of this our hands show our honest nature and cannot hide our truths. When hands die, the mind starts to die as well. Eventually the body follows and all we are left with is the eternal consciousness.
I think the only part of me that shows my age is my hands. People say you are only as old as you feel. Truth be told my body feels centuries old on a daily basis, but others tell me I look much younger than my age. Except my hands, like the Portrait of Dorian Gray, have paid the price of life. Thankfully, my hands are aged by helping more than hurting. I don't deny they have hurt others terribly, have lied, stolen, destroyed and hit. My hands have also prayed, fought, created, held on and let go. It's a great deal of responsibility for such a small part of the body.
My hands are stronger than life and their age holds no embarrassment.
(Picture taken by anonymousdaisy.)
anonymous-daisy works at the same Phoenix area for-profit higher education institution as anonymousbjorn.
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