Pulse

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the world has a red hot heartbeat
with moonbug eyes,
and an addictive smile.

the sky is a lady with a pulse,
she is a flowered tapestry
of evaporated thoughts
and uncried tears.

the moon is a secret keeper
devouring mysteries,
a light that dances with the
lost riding on her back.

the sun is a toe
tapping on the
edge of greatness,
it is the end all be all,
the peace we search for
to fill the emptiness
within us that grows like weeds.

how naive to forget the pulses
we cannot feel with our thumbs.





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