This poem is from "The Tipping Point"
published recently by Blank Rune Press.

Be There

When, over the course of an ordinary

circumstance, say an afternoon,

the suffering of an epiphany intrudes,

it comes on the instant, darkly indigo,

as if surfacing

from the arcane heart and stones

of a river, a great one, a Thames, Nile, Amazon

...like a river’s perpetual loosening of itself

from its source;

with no holds barred, side swiping its banks,

merciless, not waiting for a change in the weather

to be gone, gone on.  So, like this,

amazement strikes, emanates

from whatever it is we take knowledge from;

a quantum

leaping as briskly as yesterday from the universal moat

into the castle, fortress of personal mind.

We barely perceive it.  In trying to define the thing

we lose its essence.

So we forget.

Now, as we approach the falling away of our tribe

visions may delay long enough for taming,

may divulge the heart of the matter,

telling some of us who we are, how to be.

Many say the tribulation comes

soon now.

Rest then by a momentous river,

persist quietly.  The epiphanous sword

may emerge from the waters, spinning, rising.

She may fall on you, wounding dumb clay,

letting old blood and the holy words spill out.

Watch, be more vigilant

than you have yet been

throughout your uncounted lives.

Don’t risk

not being there

when it happens.