We fly with the storm,
Spinning too fast for them
To catch us.
The fuel feeds us,
Keeps us safe
From the monsters.
But our world is shrinking,
Our numbers dying.
Collision deaths,
Once a thing of the past
Now commonplace.
We no longer live
Long enough to spawn,
Too many of us
Swept away into the ether.
But our greatest fear
Is when the storm
Is finally gone.
Where will we disperse to?
How will we live,
With millions of leviathans
Waiting for us
In the lower clouds
As they have, since
Before the Red Spot existed.
