A Cellular Saga, Sage Among Cells

When one finds oneself 
Appended to a body 
With enough members 
That nearly all shall not meet 

You, skin cell,
May your seven years long 
Be those that you chose 
Without person envy 

Nor full organ pose 
To be as you are 
Within your walls 
You do as you may

A future shines through 
Blades from the sun 
Whose cut may mean death 
Past care plays your fun 

Vim and/or vigor 
Impossible group 
Philosophy rigor 
Flies as your soup 

Be what it is
Such as it must 
Vibrate and fizz 
Your earth's fine crust