There is a time to move and to hold still,

not draw attention, merge into the scene

surreptitiously observe, self unseen;

how things fit not, are smudged by faulty quill.

The unknown yields itself to quiet sleuths

the silent secret seeks discovery’s view

betrayed where things appear a shade askew;

cacophony, the tune of hidden truths.

The first notes of a foreign melody

take shape in sound, the hint of something new;

a rhythm, key and mood we never knew

born in a womb of words, it comes to be.

For this rare ecstasy we learn to wait.

How small the clue; the consequence how great!