One may have seen (and lived) what was not meant to be spoken of. Still, through writing, there is another way. What was pictured, what was sent, what was undergone, was to be of what will be. Through this, while looking and living forward, what was shared can be shared – as a voice beyond a tongue.
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
[They] also knew what was next: a towering wall of water washing over
. . . , cleansing it of all that was evil and impure.