Rhythm

I spread out my hands with ease
They seemed futile and bizarre
They had rhythm, symmetry
That I am not sure of
They moved with poise
They juxtaposed what I imposed
They did what I proposed
No end to what I crave for
What I got is not worth a say
Propositions were my preferences
Preferences, an ocean of choices
The answer one has
To a start and an end
Creation and destruction
My hands, tied down to
I headed them to work
Spreading them with ease
In a pace that I hardly understood