hands open
hands close
hands give expression to the soul
and if I lose the use of mine
what value then will be my life
so I shall play arpeggios while I can
broken chords
like spokes upon a wheel
none of these notes mean a single thing
but bring me joy
if temporary
all things are temporary
except for one
Another Way of Saying 
I fear your health problem is progressing. Your writings are the wild rose into your soul. Pick up the phone by the bed and call Him. He will listen.
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Many thanks oldmainer – your thoughtful comments are much appreciated.
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