Miscellaneous Pulses Of The Universe (By Mimi Mata Meyer) Poem by Mimi Mata

The heads of the lilacs
Go rolling on with an articulate sway
And I hear them;
A metaphorical note
Played in the distance...

I am not speaking of literal things,
Only of notions a heart would know,
Colors; and the miscellaneous pulses of the universe...
For what is an ocean without it's turbulence,
It's inaccurate crash?
Fruit without the root
And, tightened grasp of earth?
So, be it everything holds my heart...

I cannot wish for anything to be still,
Because even for a withered soul,
The spirit silently beats and speaks,
It goes off like the heads of lilacs
Rolling on with an articulate sway...

Understood or not;
I know it.

So let it be that the circumstance
Of everything that falls,
Sings it's very own silent hum,
Wether in motion or either that of painted quiet thought...

Standstill suddenly becomes sacred,
For, rhetorically something inside always beats.

Understood or not;
I know it...

Colors, and the miscellaneous pulses of the universe.