Your fingertips are star fall sky that pluck me from my hang unjust and lead center.Your grasp is wind right through me. I am found in unknown form. I am carried but dispersed. Our touch is wide..we are thieves…we are the exhale of some ones last inhale. We are taking part in all that is made up and real. We are the only time left. Your fingertips are glimmer and they made me up today.