Choas in collection.

Here- upon the cusp of knowing,
All surety feels as vague as the ascending mist,

Here- I am woken and startled,
As by a call to prayer ringing out to greet the day,

In tongues unfamiliar to us,
They cry out- alone- and somehow we understand,

Here- upon the surface of the earth,
We reside on the edge where collective desires gather,

Here- where the need to be is clouded,
By the fear of not being, He will hold fast and sure.