They say you know when it’s about to happen.

You feel the hair on the back of your neck crawl when the angel of death is nearby.

And if she allows it, you might even be allotted time to personally say goodbye to those you lovingly leave behind.

You can sense when a storm is coming.

That scent the earth lets off, as its thirsting for the rainfall. The heaving winds stroking the land right before it goes into ecstasy. 

You know when something big is about to happen.

As when a warrior from another land visits your kingdom. He stands before you admiring his conquest, and you stare back, awake, but are both only in a dream.

You know when there’s about to be a major turning point in your story.

As when trees shed their leaves but in the springtime. As in those days that you get those repetitive signs that come in threes. 

Landmarks. Poems written about pirates with pocketful of dreams coming true on the slabs of the sidewalk floors. 

They are all indications of a small amount of future we can feel being breathed into our ears.

Anticipation of the entire world changing, but within ourselves.

~gg