Our pulse isn't broken; it's charge
no words dare explain:
Jagged thoughts like live wires, thunderous, unbarred,
a primal cry in dawn's cold flame
or midnight's hum. We dive, we plunge
through searing highs and crushing lows,
where feeling drowns what reason chose,
that cautious voice, a measured lunge.
Not "sadness." Not quite "joy" expressed.
Like neon rain on streets unblest,
a mind aflame with stars confessed,
where clock-hands stutter, halt, arrest.
Some days we're maelstroms, fierce and wild,
Some days mere embers, cooled, unlit.
No measured metronomes are we,
we fracture, bend, remake the script.
So feel it raw, that voltage surge
through synapse-storms in rogue design:
Minds that race, then crash and purge,
senses that scream, unconfined.
Not unhinged, but tuned to soul
that thrums beneath the surface calm:
A chaos ancient, bold, and whole,
our difference is the lightning's psalm.
No cure required. No "fix" to find,
just hands to hold when darkness slips.
We ride the swell, unbound, maligned,
while the world sleeps with sealed lips.
For every mind that veers off-grid,
a cosmos logic never kissed.
We're a storm forged through mortal flood,
Humming: We exist.
The Complexity Of The Human Experience
The Lightning's Psalm
Published by Family Friend Poems August 11, 2025 with permission of the Author.
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ABOUT THE POET:
K. Stan Tinos, author of the epic fantasy Bennington Series, Twilight of the Soul poetry series, and the Odyssey Per Infernum Divino: A Poet's Passage Through the Inferno collection, is of Greek heritage. The call of writing a novel got the better of him, and he started typing the first words of what would be the first book in his new epic...