In a universe like a beehive, all people exist,
But there’s another, unique and not isolated, where he persists.
He’s unnamed, but I’ve always dreamed
Of piecing together bits of everyone, to make him complete.
Half a century ago, and now too, he’s the same,
Eyes wrinkled in the corners, smile, whimsy, scent, touch, thought,
But none have all of these, only parts.
For 50 years, I’ve pieced together this new art.
Quiet, cold, predictable, and incomplete,
But with a plan to make him from everything, snow, love, and mud.
And now, he is another universe, particles united,
Energy pure, warm, restless, complete, and prone to ignite.
I’m not afraid of fire, I’ve always loved speed,
And now, there may be a name for what I’ve created indeed.