The Beat

In this world, after a time
there becomes a feeling
of inevitability
and inescapability.
There is a rhythm
a steady beat
like a heart.
THUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMP
and people get caught up
consumed by this rhythm.
They become accustomed to it.
Begin to expect it.
Come to anticipate it.
It is the rhythm of the same.
The very essence of predictability,
where there are no corners to not see around,
no hidden windows,
no trap doors.
People expect the expected,
in every aspect of themselves,
what they eat, see, experience;
even the people they meet.
They expect nothing new;
everything old,
and every now and then,
a person meets a person,
that shakes them to their core.
To the very heart of the rhythm to which
they have become accustomed;
that they have lived by forever.
And at first
there is no change.
No break in monotonous rhythm
but then ever so slighly.
THUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMP
thump
A tremor.
A break.
A murmur
that screams out of the heart
begging to be let out
pleading, but whispering ever so softly
"There must be more than this!"
louder and louder and LOUDER
it fills your heart, your head,
your whole body and soul
like a song you cant shake
a saying you cant forget
the whisper becomes a murmur
then a voice
a yell
a scream
until there is no more rhythm
no more set pattern
no more control
life becomes what you make
what you live it
how you feel it
something so slight as meeting someone
can alter destiny
save or ruin your life
or awaken it from its morose slumber
and it all starts
with a whisper
"There must be more than this."