Lines

I looked at my palms today

I saw lines

Lines for what? 

I lift a cup, and can raise it up to my lips
I pick up a spoon, and it does not slip
I dig my hands into food, and feed myself

I shake a man's hand, and his lines and mine register
I grab a tree limb to climb, and my hold is sure
I rub my palms to wash, when dirty

I dip my hand into lotion, and smear my body
I hold a traveling bag's hand, and it's secure
I turn a door knob, and it's with ease

I grab a pen, and it stays held
I flip the pages of a book, and something picks the page
I turn the cap of a bottle, and my strength is nothing without the lines.

A man has said in his heart, “There is no God.”