Pulse
My shoe is the engineer of motion.
It controls the speed at which the
music flows from my hands.
Interdimensional focus draws the
percussionists to the center of the floor.
They will so speed away as if
flying to opposite ends of the earth.
Such pattern only makes sense to those
who happen to take part in it.
The steel notes of a bass pulse beat,
leading the drumline to zigzagged lines.
La musique est fou.
Les gens ont beaucoup d'amour pour
les instruments qu'ils jouent.
Pulses beat
acceleration, deceleration
hands flying so fast only a blurred
image can be seen.
Snares race to the edge of the floor,
faster than their sound can travel.
Drums speak a harsh tune
that warms the soul.
The decrescendo
brings me back to reality.
The line finishes.
The memory remains
the heart always remembers
the beat of the drum but the feet
will control the tempo and
engineer the motion.
