I think that I shall never dread
A task more feared than init's thread.
The parent born when all is void,
By whom all child procs are employed.
It boots the box, it reaps the dead,
It sees the crash and shakes its head.
It is the root, it is the start,
The daemon whisperer, system's heart.
You fork and exec, it stays awake–
You crash and burn, it still won't break.
But dare to kill it? You'll soon regret–
The kernel panics, cold and wet.
No script or service dares to shun
The mighty process known as one.