Clatter and buzz of the hard drive platter Late night communion with my node Bit and bytes streaming out into the ether through wires and routes meticulously setup by an unknown other. Resting on a bedrock of civilization, countless unknown others. all building a world for me. Thanks for your toil. You allow me to dream, to aspire for something more. with you I can face the void and know I am loved. thank you for your work, for allowing me to grow.
I never saw a wild thing Sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead From a bough Without ever having felt sorry for itself. -- D. H. Lawrence
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?