"Change Today"

I dreamed last night about a time
With floppies soft, computer mine;
No viruses or Internet,
DOS understood – we all were set –

When things went wrong, “format-C” won
The day, reloading discs begun
Again was pain, but always there –
With backups we could make repairs.

I built, re-built machines of ours;
De-fraged, aligned the code for hours;
Such power (compared to typing out)
With program-codes there was no doubt –

This was a brave new world each day –
Our children’s games with skill to play,
Were marvels – Pac-Man levels rose,
And dungeons swallowed neighbor-foes.

We played the pioneering game;
Watched Netscape battle, lions tamed
In jungles of the dot-com world;
And midnight pass 2000’s whirl.

In dream I saw afresh the pain –
So different now, though truth remains –
Frustrations bide each program change,
And human nature’s still the same.

Past pain drops off, the details fade;
Each feature complications made,
As year-by-year the landfills grew;
We purchased – greater RAM-size knew.

And always there were casualties –
Young man I knew succumbed to these –
First time I saw a punch-card deck
Was his – he was still with us yet.

So what to make of all this now?
The old must go, new room allow;
And we must choose how we will act,
As future’s river flows as fact.

At some point each steps off that train
And bids farewell ’cross distant plain
To Zeitgeist’s cyber-brave-new-world,
Tomorrow’s youngsters’ flags unfurled.

I met a priest two decades back,
A programmer who interest lacked
In “Learning one more system’s code”,
So switched to church and people’s loads.

Back at the first, one person quipped,
“We get to taste small bits of it,
As industry creates each wave;
Else wait ’till end, and trouble save.

We chose to surf this techno-wave
Into our brave new world, and stay
Ahead of curve like water-sports –
Each year in awe of new reports.”

Lord, thanks for times as pioneers;
Our children’s kids, it now is clear
Will also pioneer some track,
Perhaps to Mars – some won’t come back.

But here, within Your universe,
We’re one, at home, with staff and purse
As in first days when roads were made –
Into our futures they were laid.

Roads work – that’s why we build them still –
We like to travel, always will;
All stories start when one sets out,
Or just arrives and sets about –

Adjusting life to scene that’s changed –
Each box unpacked, things rearranged;
But in the basics much remains –
We are, as people, still, the same.

Thanks Lord for this.

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