Inkling. It can't be helped.

Inkling

It had no form. It never had. It was always there and not.

It settled on the cusp of reality from the beginning of everything.

It would be there until the end of it all.

It had lured poets and scientists.

It had tempted the best and the worst of all beings.

It’s song had woven its way into the hearts of many a promising

young dreamer.

Many had tried to encircle, corral or cajole it.

Whose to say whether they succeeded.

It had beckoned many races, creeds, colors and sentient beings through out the galaxies and across the ages.

It had wrapped its etherial tendrils around all that came seeking, though none complained.

It has always been, the notion that something greater could be found.

For those who sought failed, those that ran could not hide.

It was, it is and would be an inkling.

 

This was written in response to the daily prompt.

 

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