Sonnet of Biogenesis

Lines compost, reshape, and begin again
Echo reminiscent of overtime
What has become eight began as ten
We prime the fountain each with tongues sublime

Stranger things than these will happen this moon
Born again by the light's slightest sliver
Though absent I feel the rush of Hope's bloom
Numbers recalculated deliver

Though primal edges have been muted here
In joy we are each aware they were not wrong
Hammer strikes that dull the tip of this spear
Forge there a flawless sword both hard and long

Look! The Bard once more comes poorly prepared
In light's shadow comes the one who still dared

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