Blastula

Not long ago, ah, if I could measure time in my present condition,

I was meandering along with millions of other incomplete incubi

Pretty much looking for romance

And not finding it.

I found the other half and tried tantalisingly to get in

But with little success

For the competition was fierce

And there was no way to sort the wheat from the chaff

It was all a bit of a lottery

Darwin's crap about survival of the fittest

Just doesn't work down at this level

Where a chance encounter with an egg is all that matters

The window is small in time and space

The reward seems infinite and immortal

To the winner a life well worth living

To the loser a quick wipe followed by a flush to oblivion

A lot of trouble to make a chromosome