• I look at my hand, my reflection,
    at myself, and I can see
    something that was meant to be.

    I am like a map through time,
    where every part of me
    can be traced through history.

    My atoms were once scattered in every direction,
    but it had all been planned,
    and guided by an unseen hand.

    I had been thought out like a complex rhyme,
    where any alternatinve had long been banned,
    and I was pulled together by a single command.

    Now I am here,
    I am perfect,
    and just how I was meant to be;
    waited for
    since the beginning of history.