Ent In This Moment

Oui.
Je voudrais commencer avec ça. Because
the allowing makes way for what cannot be seen,
yet will be; what is, is.

Demain, dans un recoin d'un lieu inconnu,
quelque chose s'arrivera.
It will become the precursor to the written word, spoken by battled pathways, upon journeyed pipelines from whence the tears of solemn seeking ambled.
At first, terrified.
but then - triumphant in its trek
now tesselating towards tomorrow's today.

Try.
Follow the path, three doors down, instructions written on the other side of the panelling that lines these walls; beyond these corridors lie lies; and here, ushering new existence, stillness carries out the weaving of the fabric of life, majestic in sound, incomprehensible in reality, yet existent nonetheless, uninvited but inviting as a sweet dew to the soul's morning herbe.

I shiver, and here it rains. Il pleut de l'âme, because what else could sheen so brightly in the moonlit circumference of the prayer.
And it glides - outwardly touching within, explained nowhere, but witnessed everywhere and remembered anywhere here. Dans ce moment.

Ce moment. Ent, a tree root's knot in a bowl of
glass, fathered hymns,
praise, honour and grace,
ce moment, ent-ire worlds aloud,
in tie are worlds allowed,
and I, our world's a loud
memetic colouring book.