here we stand upon the very precipice of 'next'
a future beneath a star of fate
but which way our doom is twisted, we do not yet know
we are lost diamond fragments
swirling all too heedful in a maelstrom of possibility
we are jewelled cicadas sleeping
cocooned in the warmth of the earth (growing too warm)
and what we will arise to will be a summer
either bright or hellfire
remember this moment, my winged things
recall this pinprick of time in the coming days
we will need what we were
so we may blossom into what we must be
no matter which summer we face
even if you are not fox-chased as I:
oportet vivere, all the same.
it behoves thee to live.