The Pulp

Balancing on the precipice of change.
Teetering on the brink of gratified destruction;
Taking them down.
The fear and enthusiasm, paralyzed and exhilarating,
Forcefully, categorically forward.
Knowing, trusting to step, gracefully, assuredly.
A sturdy base to stand on; cultivated.
Kneaded, nourished with breadth
On the verge, the breakdown, standing, staring,
Stand and stare, unmovable.
The energy the spirit propelling forward,
Kept moving, not stopping.

Gone.

The peaceful quiet awoken.
A tumbling mass, exuberance, electric pulse, the pulp.

A body tired but yearning, a beating, prove and withstand, a chance.
Push, pull, set, test…limitless.

A mind, relieved, unquestioned, constant.
Wandering singularly without reproach; unchained…
Grow, learn, blossom.

A heart poised, ready, unheeding, at home to thrive,
The pulse the prance, a beat of the drum.

Pounds alone, for everyone, masterful, palpable,
A new little tune, rhythms and groove.

Corners to turn, new corners, sights and faces…
Unexplored, unquestioned, conquerable.