So here you find me on the roof of my building.
Looking up to find me a star,
so I can name it.
I keep the name a secret.
Mystery keeps the world turning.
I put the name in my artificial pocket
and next month I’ll find it.
I'll pull it out and recall its place above me.
Its purpose, for you, still a mystery
but to me, a religion.
Forged by the great father of engineering,
I stand *****.
I am perfect by design,
but flawed for being made.
No pulse, but my mind is always beating.
Calculating stability, analyzing data,
crunching number after number
and finding a unanimous rhythm.
Time for me is nothing,
and thus I will be everlasting.