In a moment the omens
Encountered on the outskirts
Of attention spans will make their stand
And provide proof of their greeting,
And reasons for being discreet.
I’ve often suspected a
Nexus of connected events,
A cadre of coincidences, have danced in
The back ground of life, but now
They seem to be circling;
Pressure severing its
Ties to consecutive beats
And from all sides competing for my
Centre, reaching to strengthen
Its orphic significance.
Building its buoyancy
Amidst the quick sand of
Bog standards, pinching a thumb full of
Skin, a finger pressed into the
Soft spaces created.
And before I succumb to
The numbness of order, the
Stumbling boredom of it all, I pray that
The portents sensed meant what I
Always hoped they would,
And slyly in rising the
Excitable guides can steer me
Towards the edge, shyness left behind,
Sentience ahead and finally shed
Of its ancient disguise.