Miraculous instruments, each a living spatula

Feeding the mind, more poisonous than a tarantula

Holding nothing, slippery is our fingertips

Lost in enchanting songs leaving the mind’s lips

They are naked, as birth

And empty as air, when leaving earth

Buttoning the same dress daily

And witness to everything we find tasty

How to be and, not to be

Fingers teach us, without a fee

We don’t need them to drink the air

They are meant to be free, to give and share

The mind isn’t our only hand

Without it, stronger we stand

Fingers aren’t its fangs

But ornaments on soft giving hands