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 . . .
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