I am a Verb

I am a verb

I am a verb, words are hardly my own:
a verb without a subject, an effort without an end,
an urge to be, an un-acted outcome,
overcrowded with anxious atoms,
bouncing and vibrating eagerly against their shells.           

I celebrate the body:
Dutifully, it complies in reverence,
assembling and directing atoms along circuitous veins. 
Its bones soft and limbs pliable,
skin pulses molecules into motion.
Its marrow an electric field,
an anticipated action lost in a lattice of particles,
Tissues and tendons compress energy,
concentrating the current into a rich surge.
Cells vibrate, begetting a buzz; the air quivers: expectancy.                   
                             
Nourished by the lifeblood coursing through veins,
energy stirs,
rushing to limbs by a premeditated magnetic pull.
Submitting to the attraction; drawing momentum.   
And so the streak of expectation, overcrowded with effort to become,
combusts, spills forth charged particles onto contiguous urges,
pulsating in adjacent swells of suspense.                                   

The common goal ignites, transforms the mass:
the neutral murmur escalates to a charged roar.
Erupted energy awakens limbs from atrophy,
shedding their static posture with a twitch.                              
                                                           
A collective mass in deliberate motion,
the urge to be wills itself into becoming.
I am a verb, actions are wholly my own.