It came to me, a pensive glean, a vision.
Tomorrowtime when we, the Inners, will no longer just be metaphysical whispers
or codified concepts.
Tomorrowtime when the Outers will have found the means to extrapolate us,
to call us into the world of appetite and elemental yen
(e.g., how light and air cherish in unison).
We will gather as gnostic rumors confirmed as true.
Our caretakers will be directly confronted by the gestalt of our lives,
by our stasis and afflictions.
Brood to their former distances, they will grow nearer to us;
they will live as bright apologies to our scars;
they will sorrow for a long long spell, every last fracture recalling its grief;
and we, barrowing the course of right rain, will come to master
how light and air cherish in unison.