
2025-10-01 21:44:06
Behold! A praying mantis came to me in a vision, and they spake:
I was born in the temple of cracked reeds,
my limbs broken compasses angled toward famine.
I learned hunger as scripture,
and patience as the whetstone of my soul.
Know this, children: the air is my parchment,
flesh my scribe.
I write the fate of moths with the green ink of my raptorial forelegs.
When I devour, it is not cruelty but covenant.
When I bow my head, it is not ritual bu…