The Earth's Heartbeats Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A secret pulse, a sound so neat.
It happens every twenty-six,
A gentle, rhythmic, earthly tick.

A low and constant, quiet hum,
From where the ocean waves do come.
Off Africa, in the Gulf so wide,
A mystery the Earth can't hide.

No human ear can hear the sound,
It travels deep beneath the ground.
But machines that listen, still and cold,
Can feel this pulse, a story told.

For sixty years and even more,
This beat has echoed from the floor.
But what it is, no one can say,
It stays a puzzle to this day.

Some think great waves, with all their might,
Crash on the shelf and cause the fright.
They push and press upon the land,
A heavy, water-driven hand.

Some think deep down, where fires glow,
The moving magma, soft and slow,
Creates a tremor, deep and grand,
Beneath that far and foreign land.

A clock that nature left behind,
A riddle for the searching mind.
It causes not a bit of harm,
Just a strange and hidden charm.

It beats its rhythm, soft and deep,
A secret that the oceans keep.
A quiet wonder, unexplained,
A pulse that in the Earth remains.