Pulse of the Forgotten

A ghost town surrounded by nerves & signals that hover through the bloodstream like an anxious disease, waiting to encounter its next worthy foe. No relatives in range, just some abandon life forms on a three dimension statue. Vibrations under my feet built a force field around my common fear to distract the evil deceptions from damaging my physical safety. This confusion sometimes floats through our eyes like a foggy nightfall, other times the air ducks for cover from the smokescreen, left by the ashes of the unknown.

The disproportion stones provide a trail of demure lines, circling around the olive oil concrete platform; creating an echo of silence mysterious enough to blend with the navy blue sky consistently. When you walk pass this cream rush foundation, a heartbreaking object sits behind a cripple batch of dandelions, heavenly in vision as the structure shapes the misconception of a waterfall icon we call; Strangely, no name was discovered on this beautiful architecture, though a humble melody drifts among the fallen souls who survey the artifact left by the distant outsiders.

Make no mistake, nature relives the stress dandling over the shattered windows, but faith is eager to restore the dislocated bones left to riot on the stainless floor. Strangely, the walkway feels breathless, the anxiety is effortless. Feeling this sensational harvest around me like a meteor shower instantaneously freezes the light show banging at the vision to my consciousness. Destructive as I rebel, I selectively chose my lyrics of communication. Speaking with hidden regrets; counting the flying numbers, emotions sinking in. This kinetic energy swims gracefully like a dolphin, embracing mother’s nature.

This reminds the senses to stay alert to the mysteries of the unknown. At the peak of its climax, this pulse ricocheted of the decades of despair & marinated into the tears of triumph. You may lose faith in a moment of inadequacies due to your behavior, but the forgotten doesn’t. The soil of memories will be remarkable to the DA vinci eye, just like your will to conquer.

Your soul may sometimes be broken inside its shell, but salvation will grant you the inner confidence you desire. Suddenly, as I feel this pulse slides through my veins, eager to express codes, the world just shattered from a blink. Waking out of deep slumber, realizing that the pulse of the forgotten flows through each heartbeat I take. A dream with a functional treasure is answers from your past. Absorb these translations, or they will be lost with a single blink of the eye.

©2020, Kantshens. (M.Howard), All rights reserved.