Heartbeat

Wake up to the sound of your fleeting heart
When you go, what you leave is a work of art
On my chest, on my heart

Watch it. There it goes. Slowly quickly. not at all, then all at once. but there. in the distance. a noise that i remember. do you hear the sound of the drums? they're calling me. from the mountains, they call. they sing. they whisper through the pines. And I? I cannot stay in this cabin in the valley. The wood moans bitterly. the door creaks and the windows no longer shut but lay broken, half-up. so I stand. I put my boots on & throw my flannel on. I crash through the door and follow the steady beat of the drum. At first it is pounding through the wood like a battle cry. As I keep walking, I become tired and weak. my unsteady stride and my tendency to go a bit mad make the drum hard to hear. I am walking. only in circles now. Not getting anywhere. beating my body for nothing. I have lost the sound waves. i sit up next to a tree while trying to catch my breath. Only half way up the mountain, I no longer remember which way is up. Every direction looks the same. but there again, in the distance. a soft thump, i hear. I lay still. thump. five minutes. thump. ten minutes. thump. but it is there. and so I do what I know to do. I listen to the tender thumping of the drum and when I do not hear it, I am still. and when it comes I move forward. i grow to trust the direction I am headed. and even when the drum ceases for many moments, I am guided by the birds. and I walk. I saunter up the mountain in hopes of reaching the drum that so sweetly calls me. Still through the darkest dark of the night, the stars guide my path and make it clear. the drum is not so much pounding anymore as it is gently reassuring me with its consistent thud. As I reach the summit, the sun wakes and takes the sky by charge. And as I finally walk to the drummer, I breathe a sigh of thanks. he looks down at me and says, "i never stopped drumming for you." I knew that my ears were not in tune to hear the drum as I drove myself in circles. and then he said, "You're heart was running from me. the only way I knew to draw you near was to remind you of the sound of your heart beat. how it pounds like a battle cry. and gently reassures you. how it constantly drives you through the darkest of dark. I needed you to wake up, because your heart was fleeting." and I knew that my heart was fleeting all along. my boots were heavy and my flannel worn from tears. and i realize that I was only given one of these lives, one of these bodies, one of these spirits. and I should not fret because the drummer will continue drumming. he drums just for me. and all he asks is that i leave my footprints in the dirt. that i continue on the path and help others be aware of their own drumbeat. This time, I build my cabin on the rock of the mountain. the door does not creak, the windows shut, and the wood stands tall like the trees they used to be. I take off my boots, which now seem lighter than when the journey first began. and i climb into bed. all the while, my drummer drums the beat of my heart through the night. pounding, gently, softly. no longer fleeting but steady as the rock in which it sets upon. my heartbeat thumps in cadence with the drum dimly but ever so constant.