It’s the year of the cicada, it is deafening.
Their voices rise from the ground like a million corpses resurrecting.
They usher in the cast of characters changing the global scenery.
A blood-curdling fevered pitch of waking violence, sickness, and death.
Death of how we used to live.
Death of comforts taken for granted.
Death of mankind that choke our hope.
They usher in the cry of change.
The blood-curdling fevered pitch that wakes collective consciousness.
Rebirth of how we now will live.
Rebirth of comfort found in Mother Nature’s ingenuity.
Rebirth of mankind embarking on newfound paths.
They mark the year that found the world on fire, waking growth like a forest after burning wild.
It’s the year of the cicada, it is deafening.