July 27, 2011
The confusion is tense.
It’s like a beating drum,
It starts off soft but then the sound rises.
It echoes through the forests, leaps across the tides,
And soars through the skies.
You turn towards it here.
Then it runs there.
You hear it behind you…
It’s in the distance too.
You run for the desire to catch it,
But it twists and turns so it’s hard to snatch it.
Louder and louder it beats and it beats.
The rhythm is there but it’s hard to reach.
The drums pound with rage as it fills your head,
The cries are so great that the noise has spread.
Why is that as you grow,
The beating drums do not draw slow?
You stop for a moment to catch a breath.
Then you hear the pounding right over your head.
As soon as you look to see the sound,
You feel it drop below the ground.
Then you desperately fall to your knees
And grab the dirt that does now beat.
You wish to seize it with all your might,
Then you hear it jump to your right.
You leap to your feet and reach out your hands,
Then you realize…
On your left side is where the beating sound stands.
This goes on for years and years.
As you run and chase with growling sneers.
Your heart and head forever palpitate.
Your world and mind are in a dizzy state.
But it goes on.
The beating drums go on:
Steady, fierce, and loud.
And although your head throbs,
You realize…you’ll never catch the drums beating sound.

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