Beat of the Human Heart
Some hearts beat slow and strong,
Some hearts beat fast and light,
Some hearts just flow along,
Some hearts impose their might.
Young hearts will run with zest,
Old hearts will know to walk,
Her heart will feed the rest,
His heart will nest the hawk.
The beat of the human heart
May add or miss a beat,
But still this beat apart
Must judgment not entreat.
The pulse of ages change,
All ages play a part,
Don’t act estranged, don’t disarrange,
Don’t judge the human heart.
Inside his brick workshop, sunlight partially filtering in, the red-headed man inspects the red-hot molten iron that he persistently works to mold into a common frontier tool – the flint striker. It too will strike many another fire of ambition. The sound of the blacksmith’s relentless pounding on the anvil echoes everywhere – the axe splitting the logs, the hammer on every wedge and nail of every new home and building, the sledge on the boardwalks and railroad stakes. This beat of the human heart – young, restless and seemingly disconnected from the earth knowledge by which it came and will return – is so alive in the here and now, truly admirable in its own energy. Perhaps, it is a wonderful part of the whole plan, a spiritual rite of passage in its own right.