I bend my head forward and pray at the altar of technology,
The screen casting its heavenly glow upon my face
Its gentle beams-the product of brave men and women
Who took metal and mineral and electricity
And out of the emptiness
Made everything.
All the information
That ever was and ever will be
Replicable,
Organizable,
More permanent
Than the flammable oils and parchments of the past.
The filaments and tendrils of wire and conductors
Like the bottom roots of a giant Sequoia.
What is happening in Syria, this second?
And the computer saith, let it be so.
I wish to find companionship!
And the computer saith, let it be so.
How tall do Sequoia trees get?
And the computer saith, let it be so.
Rejoice my brothers and sisters!
Let us worship at the hallowed grounds of information!