It stops the world everytime.
Everytime the beat stops.
Stops it for the human pulse.
The pulse that is needed to live.
Live and be free.
Free to run.
Run away or run to stay.
Stay within its heat.
Heat of affection and true perfection.
Perfection of its eye.
The eye that has natural color.
Colors of the beautiful sky.
A sky with which to fly.
Fly to its world and remain.
Remain so that it won't stop the world anymore.
Any more than it is now.
Now all it needs is the legs to run somehow.
Somehow, the years will continue to grow.
Grow in many ways it won't know.
April 25, 2010
