Diastole and systole push flows--
You hear the swoosh of your own life pass through
Like heat through day and night that ebbs and grows
Along the varied seasons black, gray, blue.
Just listen, hear your singing neurons link
The world to thought, the thought to world to make
Imagination realize we think
The things we see--we give more than we take.
The city flows with iron that it pumps
In strong, slow beats through fractal blacktop veins
From heart into periphery, the clumps
Cleared out as flows move slowly down the lanes.
He who has ears should listen, hear, amass
The different, subtle ways that time will pass.