It would happen. The things approach us. We feel them in our horizons. Extending out behind us. A sort of fullness. A swelling, sweltering cool. Billowing possibility. Stand and stare, even in our movement, unseeing. We blindly gaze. Caught short, upended, the rhythm is certainly sea. We are dry. We will happen. We are bound to. Look out.
Remote murmur. You know.
Not trauma. Distant thrumble.
You speak.
Echo absorbs.
It would happen. Consider.
It will happen. Just you wait.
A world is a kind of ode.
Your body a stylus.
We are here.
N Filbert 2012
Polysemic Stupor 
Indeed it will happen. “Just you wait” kind of took me out. Overall, a feeling of expectancy and foreboding. I sensed it, I tasted it. Nice job.
Here’s mine: http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2012/08/22/escape/
“The world is a kind of ode, your body a stylus.” A gem. The photo is gorgeous and meaningful also.
thank you
thank you!
Wow, a beautiful poetic take on the prompt. Vivid imagery and lyrical in its creativity. Well done. Mine is here and linked too: http://readinpleasure.wordpress.com/2012/08/23/fridayfictioneers-light-on-the-hill/
thanks so much
I love the sense of total absorption here.
thanks for saying so!
Dear N,
This was a beautiful piece, strange and rhythmic, full of mystery and menace. I’m still absorbing it, trying to tease meaning from the strands you wove. Good job with the prompt.
Aloha,
Doug
Thank you Doug
Inspirational, reminds me that we must remain in the moment, wonderful words, style everything 🙂
thank you kindly
Great to see a prose-poetic take on the prompt. Very rhythmic!
thanks alot