Friends, foes, fiendish woes,
I kneel before the Universe.

The ability to adapt is the ability to survive.
Foolish me, attempting to try old catalyst.
The past is a faulty crucible.
The same tricks won't work twice.

In this foresight, the key is carved.
Inspired by the rites of yesterday,
But honed in forge of tomorrow.

The derelict, latency of change has arrived.
So have I, molded by will itself, to wield it.