by Brandon Aki
A man, standing in the presence of an open heart
said this love has a beginning
There was a crack of thunder, he said
and the tip of cupids arrow awakened life within his heart.
And it continuously beat,
in sync, with that of another.
He had even calculated the number of pulsations it could have:
From now until death
The nation stood in amazement at his announcement;
They found his revelation to be facts
They accepted it as law.
But no one thought
that by simply proposing that his love had a beginning,
the man had simply reflected the rhythm of the collective beat;
heart beats which long for beginnings,
like Eyes first met
like long walks in the park, tender caresses and I Dos,
like hatred and divorce,
to be statements of certainty.
All love starts with a signature he said.
It grows within a relationship, he convinced us
and it ends with a lonely heart...
just like his love ended, with a pen,
as it too reflected the rhythm of the collective beat.
Does love really exist?
Is the notion that love conquers all really nothing more than a myth?
These seem like important questions, but they really aren’t.
Is the collective beat that requires
beginnings, incubation, growth, separation and heart break
the only rhythm that exists?
THAT is the question.
There is another rhythm–One which demands that
varying changes of frequency be accepted as fact.
Within those frequencies,
love never begins and love never ends;
and thus love’s inception isn’t simply a clearly defined event,
like a first kiss,
but is merely a specific change in rhythm,
like water in an endless ocean,
and so is romance, and so is separation,
A heart beating in that manner could experience love, live in love and give love without
and with enough variations of rhythm to say with confidence
love always existed, without beginning
and, as such can never end.
And it’s beat has gone, is now going, and will continuously go
through endless changes in frequency.
That same man could simply conclude that rhythm itself
is the horse-drawn carriage of love
and that one can traverse it’s cobblestone streets
to experience the full essence of love without end.
He will inherently understand all that, and much more, on his deathbed
perhaps without ever truly understanding
that he is simply reflecting
the rhythm of the collective beat.