In no real sense is he alive:
a wind-up toy, personified.
A message bundled with a drive,
he neither eats or can divide.
Two hundred million like himself,
each one distinct, yet all the same.
Possessed of vast genetic wealth,
new life’s potential in this frame.
Like pointing north, returning home,
he has no eyes to guide his flight.
A haploid on a beacon honed,
attractive...
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