There are times when I close my eyes and a flash of an image is lying beneath my eyelids-- and in the time it takes to blink, it is gone again.  This was such an image.  I call it rise, because it was gone in the raising of eyelid, and like a boat on a wilderness of blackness, it rises from the depths of the subconscious for a moment and is gone.  

“In art there is only one thing that counts; the thing you can’t explain.”
Georges Braque, Notebooks (1917-47)