Sort of Chiromancy

I saw furrows on my hands,
those turn into canyons,
with sweeping rivers,
veins of nature.

Through deserts,
lesions and mountains,
the waves are struggling.
The huge mass of water
is raging towards the edge,
shaping cliffs.
Then fell righ down,
into the abyss.

The flat of the hand.
Toy with the idea about order,
reoccuring patterns
reflecting personality,
discharge, ignite,
into a tussle with reason.
The crafted illusion of a visual experience,
the glimpse on the surface.

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