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.