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