Riptide

Photo by Jan on Unsplash

Sometimes I am struck
by such an overwhelming sense of motion
and it rips me apart like the tide.

Sometimes the hunger in my spine
bares its teeth and asks for more dreams.

Sometimes I am struck and inside
the insidious dissatisfaction churns.

Happiness is not a word for hope or
meaning, only a word for moments
(and I am).

Sometimes I am struck
by the overwhelming sense of incoming motion
not yet arrived but flickering in the fields
of a heartbeat’s journey suspended.
Blank, eternal, but only just the space
until the next spike. When all the world
is here, the silence aches, and
the beats thunder.