The eternal hum

Some blessed hearts remind us

In a breathless papyrus whisper

Or in a laud of praise

Even the sanctified itinerary

It simulates the ubiquitous thrumming

Others remind us in the harvest

With hues of golds and amber

Even the scientist intimates it

When the spark of light surges

And we start at the beginning again

The tranquility of the stream mirrors it

But so does the crash of the earthquake

It can be heard in a simple cricket trill

And in the surge of the tornado

It is somehow placid but explosive

Every clangor of a parade

Every thrash in a mosh pit

Every child with a stick

The variations are endless

But they expose the same truth

It is uncovered in a flower’s bloom

We affirm it in the moon’s rise and fall

The engine that fuels all of us

Denies our self-contained egoism

Constructed or organic; the beat goes on.

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