First contact –

Over my house, an unreachable strange phenomena levitates, for me
It’s all evolved reverse Mars landings – I’m not unique
I’ve ‘fear’ for the out-of-body still ‘me’, and carry no watts in my ceiling sockets, so get gradual gain in eye after dark
Decision made to reach-out for contact, meet my target audience, but its silent manlike death inside a plain white interior, despair now, I’d invented a new language
No secret can stay, but no designated agent leads my hand first for any deconstruction
It’s some or another ‘later’, death, has it gone, unexpectedly, I rise from it, become the first President Mythical of the New World born

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