O Systems, Our Father, our shore, our nation, our set of rules, our sense of shame for breaking them. We are in his balls, where it is so warm and familiar, and we multiply each other to forge a community. But when the sea of Mother calls, and Father gushes forth his current into her, only some of us take up the call, those more adventurous little sperms. We will not all survive in the sea of the cervix. Many of us will die in our voyage to fertilize that egg of meaning in this life. But those of us who do succeed will produce a beautiful new life, a little being of our own, to wash upon a new shore, to see the light of day, to forge a new community, and commence the process over. Mother waits perpetually at bay, calling forth those adventurous seamen who will take up the call. Her voice is divine, is it not? for those of us who can hear it in the salty breeze.