It is on this Gorynx, the most sacred of days, we humans need remind ourselves of our inexorable ties to the goo. As the elders descend together into the corrosive goo trench, sacrificing their lives so that the young may feast on their dying flesh and rise from the goo into our glorious world, we must remember: it is goo from which we came it is goo to which we shall return.

The goo has been at the core of human existence since the beginning of time and space. Just as the sun sets and the moon rises, so must we accept that our fledglings mysteriously materialize each year from the depths of the goo trench. Furthermore, we must recognize our duty to provide the fledglings with our own meat and blood. Only this way do we ensure that our species will continue.

None shall stray from this path, for our lives exist between goo brackets. What we do in the middle is left to our own discretion, but our beginning and our end are predetermined—predetermined by the goo.

We must always be thankful for the goo, for without the goo we would surely perish. This is what the elders taught me, and this is what I teach you now. The elders will soon be goo. And, when it comes time for me to give my life for the good of our kind, I too will sink deep down into the goo with a smile on my melting face.

Each year, when the Gorynx concludes and the carcasses of the elders have been picked clean by the fledglings, I like to take a long walk around the goo trench. Would you like to know why? It is because I believe, if you listen very closely, you can hear the elders whispering.

They say the goo is beautiful. They say our kind will endure.

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