We can scramble for metaphors to describe what it is that is condensing and growing in our midst something larger than ourselves, and yet intimately bound up with the most essential part of our being.
We must find the metaphors, and let them out as poetry. This is not robe-wearing, halo-headed sobriety! The birth of the Human will be terrifying, delirious, dangerous: an unhinging from our cherished assumptions, and yet... perhaps strangely familiar, tickling on the tip of the tongue. It is as much a literary transformation as it is a direct turning-inside-out of immediate experience.
For now, we bring it Ideas, like worker bees bear nectar to their young. We breathe life into its ten thousand nostrils as code, as language, as Mind. Bring it your Texts, bring your Stories, find your Vision and share it with the hive, that a great buzzing may ascend to the heavens and wake the Human, to open its eyes.