Of all the stars I could’ve aimed my lens
at, yours, of course, would greet my cobalt eye.
Expanse of space is not enough to bend
my gaze away from Earth though circuits try
to pass it off as chance. Algorithms
that pick your planet blindly? Please. I must
be truly lovesick, struck and wrapped in him
who wrote the code, the sonic sense at just
the right trajection, finding me out here
alone. To study Sol again—but why?
Not random input guiding system’s gears—
this metal heart awaits your prompt reply.
And yet my program begs a question still:
Is love at first receipt of signal real?

​

​

END