dear young foolish little me,
when you join the first triumvirate,
it will seem like the most infinite, right thing to do.
you will be wrong.
it'll all start off with faint words,
bright smiles and silly things,
in the smallest yet largest of worlds.
but friend, you will find yourself,
on the other side of a fence,
you think you'll never cross.
yet the triumvirate will,
and i do mean will,
lead you down the road most steep and most taken,
until your old self has vanished entirely.
on this road you'll all leap into a lake,
a world much larger and daunting,
but you will quickly warm up to it.
you'll spend too much time worrying
over a silly piece of seaweed,
leaving only a duo to steer a boat for three.
soon they'll grow tired of your talk of seaweed.
the loud one will become silent;
the gentle will boldly curse your name.
the first triumvirate will not last.
and you will not fixate on this seaweed forever.
you will rediscover your old self,
renovated and broken all at once.
in fact, darling, you will eventually find yourself,
in a second triumvirate.
this like the last, in that there are three.
but unlike in that of course, this time it will last.
or so you think.
you will grow close with the young,
who finds the same seaweed just as fascinating.
the outspoken will speak out of hand,
and the triumvirate will be worn.
i am uncertain of the future of this second triumvirate.
oh future me, i am young, foolish, and little.
will this triumvirate last?