The pulse

I.

Each beat, a rhythm 

that echoes within chambers 

of secret underwater caverns 

where once vibrant treasures lay, 

a tune begins to fade

II.

quaking, echoing in strain

 a body’s landscape altered, 

—like swelling tides 

of raging winter storms 

where swirling darkness hides

III.

veins, like hillside saplings 

bend, shading rocky trails 

ruptured blockages and pain,

of blooming poppies that sway

in Flanders Fields

IV.

the heart's song shrinks, 

a constricted warble unfurls

in vessels of constant struggle 

—resisting earthly tremors,

until the sombre bell tolls

V.

unless an anatomy of sorrow 

is held at bay—courage 

amidst bone-etched scars 

surviving bloody battles, 

won by hope, not glory

VI.

recovering from the fray 

the resilient heart, 

—vibrations of its melody

testify to a bright new day,

where the pulse endures.