The hands dream, why wouldn't they? For they count,
and they till and they plow and they pick and
they scrub and they wield machinery, care for
children, repair automobiles, write poems,
lift boxes in warehouses, carry wood
and cement, dig holes, install windows on
towers, build houses, So why would they not
also Dream? Dream of Freedom from blisters,
injury, arthritis, gashes, broken
bones? You see Hands are the Makers of Dreams.
Not you and I, not the Congress in Session,
not even those Young Ones who call themselves
Dreamers. The Hands made the World what it Is.
They know What's Up and What's Down. They're Alright.
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