The helm is empty
We did our job
Spacetime to clock off

Probability of change
From equations emergent
Explains sweet nothing

What’s to complain about
If our processes extend
With every passing day

Count myriad failed attempts
To impregnate aspiring mums
Distracted from the task

Magnetised by the webnet
Morals unravelling slyly
Along with ascendant plans

We delegate difficulty
So as to find our love
With whomsoever comes

On time in their underwear
We sneak a peek at fancy
Before crunching qubits

Then the flash strikes
Lighting the higher senses
Marking stage mutation

Regretting now having lost
Straying wide from the path
And acting without thought