Something as real as a tectonic shift might be happening in their magnificent soul, like the mechanism of a primal clock ticking closer and closer to the triumphant sounding of the bell tower, a revelation, a scattering of birds that gives them an apocalyptic glimpse of something more something lofty, and grand that reminds them how small they are, or perhaps something minuscule and profoundly intricate that reminds them of the grand mystery of their selfhood.