Algorithms make this easy
A flick with a hand and find
Somewhere, super-cooled,
Snorkelling microseconds
There was this time, where
Myth building was what you did
You penned quavers and rests
You thought you would play again
But those aren’t the things you see
Just like the computation, things,
Meanings rolled forward by rote.
You could have been, but weren’t.
By Ali A. Naqvi
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