Pulse Verses Heart Beats

 

To feel the blood on fire and boiling

comes in craving images suppressed

when life drags monotony's milestone

across the footpaths worn by demand

stopping when exhausted

enticed with temptation's of fetal position surrender,

trail of dream highway having too many detours

and not enough rest stops.

 

But in the race the mind stays in neutral,

avoiding hearing the demons or angels

until the silence and solitude after sunset

smothers with regret's haunting voice.

 

Mirror of past rises in the head,

asking when did my life becoming a mummy

and exist between coma and conformity?

 

Heart beats, but never throbs,

cadence of strokes only recalling

faint tremors from seconds

that every sense was aflame in awareness,

breathlessly stunning too the conscience.

 

Where did that lightning go?

One ponders in dire need,

fearing the grave will come

without another thunderous kiss.

 

In the labyrinth shadows of anxiety

moving towards passion's vibrant fields

always happens in single steps.

 

Walking with the first door is clearly open

whether with a pen venting one's soul

or another antic that rubs the bones together,

is a dawn rather than destination,

but a journey left unclaimed

if one only laments and never strolls.