my hands

I do not know what could be, or even should be.
I vaguely see what is.
Shadows reveal empty spaces,
Faith left undone,
Hope unrealized.
People are left to meet
Expectations.
To be one is to be the lonely one.
I do not understand life, its windings and sorrows.
I know the weight of pain stacked on my shoulders.
I know the ease of a hand along all my graces.
I drink your blood as
Atonement,
Salve,
In my wine glass.
My stagnent blood ferments
Inside caverns.
I breathe,
Hoping to reconcile
The right and the left hand,
The two who have never met.
Dependant on their individual responses,
The two shall become one.
In a handshake,
A melding,
A synthesis.