Beats.
There is, at times, a darkness that takes flight.
It envelops your aura and leaves a stench in its wake.
It is a persistent overcast of night where light should breathe, where hope seeks to find a harbor, where it should live.
A vastness of constricting thoughts, maybe? Where clarity does not prevail, and often a fog permeates.
The state is pensive; the air wreaks of uncertainty and begs only a slow cadence, nothing more.
Every so often, the spirit seeks autonomy, if only to lament.
It can’t even fathom the luxury of unbound emotions. So instead, it grapples with subdued independence.
The kind that hesitates for fear it cannot trust its porter.
The kind that has brewed in the pits of a restricted sense of freedom.
Seeking sovereignty of a spirit that knows no internal bounds; is only subject to those who have availed it time.
It is a routine fueled by comfort; it is a presumed complacency.
It is a state of confusion where a heart pulsates from stifled chaos yet sways to its solemn cantata.
It beats to a song that reaffirms.
Whether through fate or measured iterations, or broken trusts, or doubtful reflections, the heart does always find a song.
Chords strung to a sound that gives way to a harmonious dance.
Flickering and fluttering notes of glistening confidence.
The kind that fills the spirit with a gilded assurance.
The kind that spurs cascading reflections.
Seeking sovereignty of a spirit that knows no outer bounds and witnesses a soul that dances on hope.
It is reassurance intertwined with the reinforcement of truths.
It is hope, it is light, and it is love.
For a brief moment, it is confusion, but a heart defines and designs, and oh yes, it dances to a vibrant mix of specific beats.
Then it dances to a song that reaffirms.
