Fingertips part like a man on a cliff and his reason,
With a silent motion deafened by its meaning,
Speaking loudly of feelings as tidal winds twirl,
In the drop there is acceptance of the different worlds,
A faint hope that the words could have been cradled in hands,
With a reaching touch that made one simply understand,
The contours of the land show rigours of expression,
Reflecting back at the peering face a bewildering connection…
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An excellent and tense first line!
Thanks, it seemed like a good way to start and then it was all down hill from there…