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?"

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