For it has been a year, and a year before that.
Seems I come to hibernate in Entropia.

Here is a mining log, from winter solstice to equinox.
For each probe digs deep and each claim is at stake.
No remorse, no joy, no fear; mechanic grinding
Wheels turning, a clockwork ancient, never changing rules
a fool's glory raining down, untouched I stand looking
at what returns will bring to me.
Too many years past, wisdom in vain
after all, isn't this a calculation instead of a game.