A rush of the wind is meant to send shivers down your spine
eyes dilate
hair stands
oxygen increases
And the nightingales song is there to soothe you to sleep 
In the heat of the summer between cotton sheets 
and 
so if you ever find yourself numb to the beat of the ocean on the sand 
You are no longer alive 
Though the heart may still beat in its place 
You know nothing of its rhythm, 
Of the symphonies that surround you,
Or of the tectonic drums that give way to the mountain tops our gods live on 
Decrescendo decrescendo 
Down into the mezzanine
Not yet buried in the earth
But still, nowhere near the heavens

6/22/2025

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