Fondness, Otherwise Known as Desperation

What makes us human

Utter ecstasy will dance
just beyond perception.
I cannot count
the times I’ve
stretched to reach reality
and come back
empty handed.
I find I’ve grasped
handfuls of sand.
They rush between my fingers.
Human skin
I find more solid;
its heat a dulling comfort.
Find it no surprise to cling.
The human heart is steadier than its
over-thinking, squishy counterpart:
Its lack of words and universality
hold essential, anchors to what,
in hope, can make us human.