Supplant. Unsettle. Bury. Return.
Learn to live in colonial soil by incubating in every available abundance. Cutworm into crop and field, drink your nutrients from the earth. Swell and wriggle, aestivate in crack and crevice, in fallen trunk and crumbled rock, live quiet with proximate generations, then bury yourself deep to melt into your body, don’t let them see you before you’re ready.
Arise. Trace. Lead. Linger.
In the night, begin cartography. Your blood knows the journey your body seeks for dark, for damp, to eat. Grow fat and full, nestle together in the deep for your rest, go quiet. Do not let them see you before you are ready.
Return. Extract. Propagate. Remind.
You know where best to grow your children. You know when it is right to leave. Go home in swarm. Hum the air and fill the sky. You will eat as you will be eaten, you love the fire only when it is in the dark. Love in the flurry and frenzy of a plague, it is for no one to stop what your meaning has made you to do.
Find the deep and dark again. Collect in such hordes you will stain the soil metalloid. Die in such heaving mounds the earth is poisoned with your decay. If they want to feast on your carcass, let it kill them.