This pace

This pace,
this one right here.

When the rhythm feels just so
the right focus - the right meaning.
When all around nothing goes too fast
or too slow, but on beat
with the pulse of life.

It gleans strange from the ordinary
sets reason from ration
to unlock and unload
the Truth.

Which is it?
Hard to tell.

Random movement and wind progression
drives branches into mysterious symphonies,
every note,
descending to the ground like fallen leaves
over a dry sunset.

Water ripples in steady acceleration
until all disturbance degenerates,
and fateful calm is restored
to soul's surface.

A mirage?
Hard to tell.

Like heat waves ascending from desert sands,
swirling and mixing amidst clouds of dust,
the notes drown
into cold darkness of another moonless night
walking alone beneath the canopy of such illusions.

But finally - relief
as radiance of another waning embrace
seeps into old wounds and caresses
wearied nerves,
loosening the grip between rhyme and reason
until both are at last distinguished.

The significance?
Hard to tell.

You find yourself at the heart
of someplace you've never been before,
yet seem to be revisiting a place within
yourself, you've always known existed,
determining your will to remain

at This pace,
this one right here.