There’s a pulse that beats beneath us, no, all around us, pounds on our chest and wraps around our ribs and vibrates up and down our spine and down our legs.
It’s never stopped, that we know of, at least not yet. It rises in our nostrils and creeps down our throats. It mixes with the sea and the moisture pushed out by the trees. It’s steadier than the sun for when the sun goes down and gives way to the moon the pulse carries on. It relies on no one, that we know of. What compels it to pound so diligently, reliably, resiliently? What powers and modulates it, maintains its steady beat, quickens it from time to time to the point of destruction and devastation? What keeps it from beating too slowly, from dropping below our needs? It just keeps beating under our feet and pounding on our chest, tingling our nostrils, bringing tears to our eyes at times, never taking a rest, even when we need to. I trust it will be there when I awake, again.
“Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.” – Allen Ginsberg
I guess this places you among the Beat poets. : )