A touch to much.
A word to many.
A downward look at nothing.
The acts preceed recognition.
And then?
And then
the picture is there.
It paints itself,
layer by layer
on the border between
unconscious notion and
bright daylight action.
And then?
And then
in that disconnected second,
that quick, quircky tick,
it is there before us
full blown.
It wasn’t.
It is.
An undefined apperition, opaque, lacey
morphed to full fright possibility
in an eye blink.
And now?
And now,
what?