that snowflake thing

a single snowflake fell 

from a single second of a wintery sky,

in an otherwise summery day,

as if anomalies don't need the support 

of evidence as justification.

miracles sort of get a free pass,

but anomalies, especially short-term ones,

for it is said, 

no, it could not have happened.

to believe is a sign of self as insanity.

time demands a continuity to vouch for 

an amount of presence, 

whereby the human sensory intake can credential. 

otherwise, one could be classified as

in active imagination-land. 

not a crime but still duly noted.

sure we all like first-person phenominals.

maybe we have all fancied ourselves

to be the start of a new religion,

based on some miraculous gift of presence

that we voluntarily possess.

but behaviorists have rules of demeanor 

and acting-out is constrained 

by other's interpretation as just behavioral

and not anything of a mystical nature involved.

but what is that that is,

that is perceived as eventful?

does it ever escape mundane observation?

and if so, how would one revel in its occurrence? 

there are sacred things that happen to each of us

that anyone else would not regard as relevant.

but somehow, somewhere within,

significances are compellingly a reach.

they are personally more valuable 

than a bucket-list achieved.

they realm beyond what experience intended.

once, when I was very young,

an albino ant, busy in its group process,

stop in its tracks,

turned and looked at me with singular attention.

for me, it was a blessed event.

and then it went on its way.

I felt blessed and confirmed.

my life was personally enriched from then.

but what can I say about it to anyone?

almost every day,

something out of the specter of ordinary happens.

some nuance of existence,

more subtle than considered profound happens.

it's like the world we occupy is almost staged

and the real world goes on around us,

unattended by us but yet happening.

it's like we are on a tour

and everything is sort of staged for our benefit.

yet there is casual slippage 

or inadvertent events 

that reveal but yet don't ever fully tell.

like we are as a species, ever audience intended.

but there is and they are, 

more gifted and more talented than we.

and yet we persist,

as having great audience potential to realize.

but I would so like to get backstage,

even for a day,

and take in how all of this presentation is arranged,

executed and intimately presented to us. 

it's as if what we call real

is just a medium of our elaborate consciousness.

when the workings that compose it,

actually live and function at other levels

that we, as a species so entertained,

have really no viable access to.

not even a press pass worth the bother for now.

so that snowflake thing

that happens in the middle of summer

yea, sure, whatever . . .