Sometimes, many times,
The heart stops, albeit, a moment,
At times,
Struck by the beauty of nothingness
Shocked at the bizarre mind of humanity,
At others,
And then, when it resumes its beat,
It’s no more the same,
For a while
With beauty, it flutters
Like a butterfly in happy abandon,
At the quirks that define humanity,
It sighs,
a mute spectator, to the mind’s whims,
It beats against the chest as though
its silent screams will be heard,
Alas! How little does it know,
It must listen to the master above,
Until its time.
It beats
Forever in hope that its relentless
Plea will prove its master
Worthy one day.
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