I have heard it on good authority
that at the very moment of the eclipse
if
everyone who believes
in the rapture
stands with arms outstretched
as on a cross
(open wide!)
for all the world to see…

there will be
an incessant hum of
lustful cicadas
undulating a binge-breeding vibration of
high-pitched frenzy
creating a Glorious Wind
sucking in air.
ear-popping a vacuum
which knocks them senseless
of why they were ever standing there
in the first place.

As they look around,
dazed and bleating, they will be.
Still here.
Yet.
Their ears echo chamber
the thrill receding synchronously
with swelling
of the thrill yearned.
lust for the wanting.
The righteousness.
The chosen-ness.
They want it all over again.

Meanwhile,
for the rest of us,
the earthquake of sound
will rumble
mildly underfoot.
The hum will pull us in
to hum along helplessly
louder and louder
hums upon hums
upon hums upon hum
a sonic shattering screech
that will vibrate
deep into our beings
shaking the steps of the DNA stairs
that bound us together,
so much so,
the molecular messengers of old will
thunderclap (like hands over ears).
Our species’ divergence will begin.