First, I sensed it
as an impending,
a forthcoming,
a precipitous presence
somewhere near us.
Somewhere immediate,
right near where we are,
right here, amongst us,
there is this presence.
It is not just whirling
in the mind storm
of any of us
merely by suggestion.
For there is though,
just an edge,
like an aroma's tail
that faintly flexes
out of its camouflage,
infrequently and unevenly.
It is an ever so distinct but minor
yet insistently present.
It seems profoundly muted
or intermittently muffled
from its unrelenting demands.
But no,
it is definitely nearby
yet still vaguely so,
mostly as an ongoing.
It’s like a distant lighthouse’s
ever bright and guiding light
but in a thick dark
new moon night fog,
or more intimately
like an open collective
of human mouths
sounding a shared tone
from deep within,
voicelessly yelling out
for an audience response.
Yes, that is the image
that incessantly comes to mind.
It is soft a cappella,
sung without breath brakes.
It is inadvertently exerting.
It is a continuance.
It is distantly robust
but somehow now
fascinating in mysterious ways.
It is commanding
and yet is restrained.
It is way beyond
what meaning would make of it.
And it continues
with subdued persistence,
still only as an exuding presence,
ever so indistinctly monumental
and doggedly enduring.
Thunder would be expected,
yet it is still only subtly exuding . . .
building towards an abundance
that would clearly
and eventually have its say.
It will pronounce itself.
But for now,
new voices adding to the mix,
as it is still and only exuding,
somewhere amongst us expanding,
imminently close at hand.
Still exuding, a presence of itself,
yet feeling for,
and listening to,
while still,
exuding . . .
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