You are Human, and you are History.
Both are everdestined
for suffering and happiness,
for hardship, then quietude, then hardship again-
for we are not above the world-
in fact, an unimportant part of it-
grains of sand infinitesimal,
at the mercy of the ocean,
no immunity to its sybilline rulings.
As we enter into this new era
we heed our ancestral bloodlines:
you have lived through so much
You! The product of centuries
of metamorphosis, bodies bred
stronger than the last,
sustaining the DNA
of those who came before them.
We take their energies into our own,
and use ancient instincts
Stuck at home, but you are a pioneer.
Feeling the weight of your calling
like the weight of the scythe
as it swings,
cutting through forest so dense
that the way out feels just like-
a hazy vision,
a mountain's movement,
a full tectonic shift away.
The pilgrims- at your ankles like lost children,
helpless, famished and fitful;
You- all extemporal sacrifices
between the burrs,
and enough endurance
You will not have to sacrifice forever,
by the very nature of the flux
Every pioneer was also a pilgrim
seeking a leader out of disaster until
he gleaned by necessity
to become one,
taking the blade by the handle
to instigate fate,
to manipulate the disarray himself-
not for himself-
but the future sharers of his lineage.
creating a world
he's accepted he will never see-
yet still, he goes.
Will you follow him?
Or, perhaps... succeed him?