God’s muted whisper says “I analyze”.
A child of shifting soil is given birth;
A virgin soul, observing with fresh eyes
Each systematic detail of the earth.
Discriminating, practical and sound,
The Virgin Children for perfection crave,
Ironic’ly not found on solid ground,
For they, like all mankind, to flaw are slaves.
The Virgo’s are material concerns
And as bold engineers are able souls
But oft internally, their minds return
To doubts about their own worldly controls.
May their investigations never halt,
While seeking bold solutions over faults.