The seventh crow banks and wheels,
circling over the silicon sea,
eyeless he sees, and earless hears,
but never a word says he.
Of blackest midnight shape his wings,
make every quill a fountain pen,
and trace in glowing synmetry
knowledge beyond mortal ken.
Far below and all around,
bright circuitry and fields of wire,
contain the mystery within,
spelled out in runes of glowing fire.
Circling over the silicon sea,
the seventh crow keeps watch below,
faithfully he guards his charge,
the secret none shall ever know.