My hands are gently, my hands are swift. <br />In this room I use my gift. <br />Seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours. <br />Each second that passes, a life takes a sleep. <br />Each minute that passes, a life begins to wake. <br />Each hour to come, is a time to pray. <br />At the end of the day, in this room, I am your god. <br />At the end, only I decide who lives. <br />My hands are gently, my hands are swift. <br />Should you not wake, pray the lord your soul to take.<br /><br />Gary Hembree<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/complex-8/
