Exopregnant
Mastering these tides "Ahoy mate'y!" To the moon The rest fades away We are plus one now A whole new perspective is What shall this one be? An Infinite train Playing the Song of Random Is the only way To play the machine The machine must play itself and make something new Parse it as arrows Let once slip through hallowed halls Forever no more But what of a name For this son soon will be born And a name he'll need It is in the stars Written between everything What's left of the night "Nothing but a grain Of wheat, perhaps, dust it off Now, where were we, son?"