You don’t notice me, but I am here, light sketch lines of a hard pencil against a busy backdrop.
You don’t hear me, my voice is used only when a flavor is missing from the recipe.
You don’t feel me, for I flow through the universe, avoiding collisions. Any small brush against my skin would give me a jolt.
You don’t smell me- I wear no perfume to mask what I hope is the aroma of nothingness
You don’t taste me for that has been reserved for very few.
It will be many months before one day, you will notice I am here, and believe surely it’s the first time we have met.
I will assure you, it is not. I have already logged many observations of you and my roots have started to entangle with yours.
Now you start to see me, like faded shapes developing into vibrance and contrast.
Now you hear my thoughts, curated over decades of observation and reflection.
You want to taste me. But I do not want to (yet).
We will sit in the silence. We will only say things that need to be heard.
And we will touch only when something needs to be felt.
We have moved all that is important from the sideline to center stage.
Only then, will you know the essence of me, because together, we will see the essence of the world.