Sometimes communities are transient and that's okay. A community on a ship to a new home, sisters in a house growing too small to fit them both-- if these limens weren't worlds how would be build ourselves? Maybe what was gold did stay, forever captured in a poem-- or maybe everyone who could understand it is dead now and that's okay. We are preimages chasing images, and in order to manifest them we must sometimes recognize that everywhere we emigrate is temporary, whether that's its own fault or ours. I'll see you in the next temporary place.
One exception though, rss will last forever. Let's get on that bus.