Touchless
Let us come to our senses,
to feel the depth of this dimension,
And realize the truth that lies tightly in our clenches,
Taking granted of the finer things in life,
like granite, that surface is hard to scratch,
Time is money and the only form of currency that we can't get back,
But don't wine about it, put your bare feet to the ground and sit in the grass,
Meditate to elevate and reach for higher contact,
Feel the air on your skin, from the breeze of the wind,
The stretch of your smile from each ear as you grin,
Or picking of a rose as you're pricked from the stem,
That connection from birth, when you do skin to skin,
The sensation to feel, what is above this,
I pray that I heal and never be touchless.
S