It emanates from you.
A paramount aroma. One so compelling we may be blinded by it.
Like a bat who's lost the ability to echo-locate, only guided by his scent.
Its overwhelming power occasionally transposed into trepidation.
Nervously some walk, perturbed by its ability to dominate.
Others sprint, enveloped in fear, destination unconsidered.
Then there's the few who strut.
Englufing every last drop of this somatic drink.
Transforming its energy into a transcendent exuberance.
Elevated by elation, now encompassing this omniscient aura, all powerful themselves, they realize their potential.
Driven by ambitions to expedite such esoteric understanding into a metamorphopsis allowing all to appreciate its glory, these strutting few plant its seeds ubiquitously, through all creative outlets and endeavors, for no other purpose will every be satisfactory. For no longer is anything else a genuine aspiration, than to spread such heavenly ideals and understandings.