The beat of life wherein iambs are found,

So oft comprise the pulse of living verse

Where souls mete out their scores in smites of sound,

And march in tempo to life’s greatest force.

These notes of heart and soul are not by chance

For such a rhythm stirred when chords began,

Melodic strains that mark that first cadence

Before life soared, or crawled, or even swam.

We are all creatures of a common source

And by life’s essence share it’s spiral bands,

That we through folly have ignored or parsed,

Since man first drummed  crude claims of I or am;

As hearts tap out this rhythmic primal song—

So shall I write until this beat is gone.