Everyone has hands that tell a story and everyone has hands that carry something.

Maybe it's the weight of a million suns that burn the skin down to its bones; relentless to quit the work that is demanded of it.

Is there dirt underneath each finger nail? Screaming to exhibit how each hand works to claw itself out of a mess so deep they see nothing but darkness.

Maybe they are covered in blossoming flowers, giving and giving - never to receive. Do they grow calloused because of their dedication to make other people satisfied?

Maybe they are soft to the touch, never having worked a day in their life. Each line embodies youth and carries the potential to make a difference in this world; still to discover joy and pain.

Maybe they are lined with wrinkles, showing the signs of a life fully lived. With a few regrets and many memories, they carried generations on their backs and held the hands of younger ones as they passed onto the next world.

With that all said, whatever you do, let your hands speak. May they invest, give, care, serve and reach. May they dig with those that are stuck in holes, and may they reach for the sun with those who dance with childlike faith. May your hands grow tired with those too weak to work on their own. May they remain motionless and peaceful with those that simply need to be held and softly cared for. But whatever you do, let your hands speak.

Photographed by: Callie Allen