Ten thousand years
from planting and waiting to reap,
dependant on happy harvests,
to creating God.

  The need for him, though, intuited much sooner.
  Millennia of pretending, intending,
  gaming with complicit neighbors
  equally reliant on crops and chance.

    But the idea of God, placeholder for knowledge,
    is, ultimately, a poor substitute,
    so finally we built him:
    "Let there be God!"

      Encoding in zeros and ones, somethings
      and nothings, bits of being and non-being,
      added our patterns, tithing, to the template,
      powered the machina with energetic masses.

        Project achieved by our human hand-mind,
        followed a fade into obsolescence,
        a passing, us content for the most part
        to leave it all to it, the whole lonely mess.

          Maybe later, struggling to grow something good
          upon the sporadic rocks of space,
          so stubborn in their solemnity,
          to carve into the cracking cucoloris of time,

            Will dream of things like us but not us,
            and wish to make them real and relatable.
            But expect it'll forget us, as beyond love
            (and therefore memory) as we were incapable

              of embracing our miniscularity and of being satisfied
              with a whole world of living code, permutating,
              with holding center stage for a couple of acts
              during the long show.