Who knows who among us is waiting to be heard?

Lurking in the wings may be somebody else.

Not the recognized performer out in front

with his lines all written for him scene by scene, and every inflection, gesture, stance rehearsed to promote (to a last nuance) the latest

and most glitteringly chic of hits.

But somebody else:

not listed at all.

who urgently, inchoately from where he's hid may be trying

in a muffled voice to cry

``But this isn't it!''

This isn't what in the least is meant!''

If he were somehow

to get himself out: if he were to bolt on to the lighted stage and blurt aloud

whatever it is -

O mercy upon us!

How a whole house (from gallery to stalls) might be shaken - shaken! - as if by a quake.

And this

au courant

audience so classily in the know

to what Awesome News

suddenly be exposed?