Somewhere....

Somewhere in this supple,
Rounded, familiar shape
Lies the mind I love.
Credit be to the Hand
That devised such tangle
Of destiny, of intertwining
Paths, towards living we all go.
In every sparkle, in every caress,
In every touch, in every smile,
In every passing moment,
There rises a silent prayer to
The Hand, that devised this.
A prayer in volition, of a
Predestined accord, devised
For me, as I grow; as shaped
By the Hand, the mind I love.