Master Of The Beating Drum Poem by Emmanuel Stone

I hear a drum beating
Who is the master of the drum?
Who controls its pulse?
Who demands it breaks the silence when it does?

I search for the drum,
The search is futile,
The drum is everywhere
And its master eludes me.

How can the drum demand my ears?
I, who do not care to listen,
Can hear only the sound of its beat,
Cannot escape its roar wherever I am

The beat is strong but worthless
It achieves nothing, save sound
And destroys only silence
But why do they play the drum?

The drummer beats the drum
And lets the sound consume him
Every beat is felt whole within,
The drummer beats the drum

To the drummer the beat is all
The drummer only exists in its sound
And the drummer is content
For each beat is perfect

The drummer bets the drum.