Suggests
There were 24 others

And here we land
Utopia. The Christmas number.

Built in with each other
Boxed-in:
We've multiplied.

A virus destroys a host cell
By replicating itself
So so many times over
That the Cell expands to
Maximum capacity
Then bursts.

I've been reassured that that
Won't happen
In number 25.

Were you to pass a thousand years drifting
In memories doubly drenched in sorrow,
You would find me pacing the shore waiting
To welcome you home, life's new tomorrow.

Within this land of love's patient slumber,
I will cradle your tender, worried heart
'Til time allows you to disremember
The burdens of grief which set you apart.

Then bring your ship sailing straight home to me;
I am forever your warm water port.
I've sent sweet scented streams out to your sea,
Now awaken to my gentle escort.

  My love is a current, steady and true
  I am your safe harbor;  I wait for you.