I want to cry.
I feel a turbulent force
launched from the heart of me.
I am constricted in my throat,
oppressed by a voluminous inwardness of expansion.
I am stretched and ripped into a vastness
not anatomically claimable.
My throat bolts from itself
in attempting to get out of the way
of the upward surge forth coming.
Alerted, but my mouth has no sense
of shape to assist.
Sounds as large as boxcars are coming.
There is a thoroughfare forming
exiting out of my head.
I have no sense of self to assist or to serve.
A whole wardrobe of cacophony
will charge out of me and skywards.
I sense that none of it
is meant to be meaningful words.
Nothing is to be captured by your ears
but the sonic boom of it embracing you.
Read for yourself the hurl of it
from deep inside yourself
where you feel for it.
I am only an instrument,
an aperture for the whole of us
that this is sounding for and through.
I now feel soulfully bonded for our collective
that we will share in.
This is a call from beyond what time offers.
And I initially thought to myself
that I would simply have the privacy of tears . . .