I hold in my hand,
Something you would never suspect.
I hold in myhand,
Nothing to be exact.

But this nothing to you
Is something tome,
Because I know it's something
That you cannot see.

You possessthis too,
You either know it or you don't.
Depending on a heart made ofgold,
Or a heart forged in stone.

From brother to brother,
Andmother to son,
This something is exchanged,
The something ineveryone.

You may choose to leave it,
To let it lie alone.
That isif you've chosen,
The heart forged in stone.

This something is theman,
Who lives on the streets.
This something lives in the child,
WhoQuestions rather than greets.

Objects know nothing of this wonderfulsomething,
Yet are associated with it, no doubt.
To put faith in thesesomethings can only cause one,
To wander down the wrong route.

Yes, inmy hand I hold nothing to you perhaps,
Nothing your eyes may see.
But in myhand I hold the power of love,
And that is all I will ever need.