Vibrations

They’re moving.

They’re vibrating.

Those vibrations that give me a thrill and sweep me up in wordless agony

I know they’re nothing more than local disturbances in an elastic medium making their presence felt through me

Yes, I know what the science says.

But can it account for the sense of euphoria that I feel?

Aren’t your senses picking up the same vibrations?

If so, how can you be repulsed by the same thing that holds me powerless in its thrall?

Can’t you feel the magic in their maneuvers?

A symphony of emotions tied up in a neat staccato of rhythms

You can choose to outlaw them

Forbade their very existence saying it’s poison to your senses

If so, I am those very rhythms borne flesh

What will do you to me?

Draw me and quarter me?

Well then, go on ahead!

But beware,

from the very soil wherein lies my mortal self,

springs forth an immortal seedling of a revolution,

that will turn those innocuous vibrations

into a tempest of seismic magnitude

which will sweep you away into nothingness

And all that will be ever said of you is that

you’re a jarring note of static within an everlasting symphony

that plays itself over, without you and in spite of you.