Small World


It is easy to complain when a page loads slow,

Your computer just crashed, and it's time to go.


You searched and searched and couldn't find it.

Just hundreds of pages without a hit. 


Html is such a pain; get the syntax right or start over again.

Editors don't help a lot when glitches are to blame.


When it's right; it's a wonder to behold; photos in digits that never grow old.

No paper to yellow, whither, and fade.  Served forever in endless parade.


Billions of pages, stored on a net.

A worldwide web, that's not finished yet.


Faster than its slowest link,

Information at a mouse clink, in a blink


Reinventing itself as it grows,

Where it will lead, no one knows.


The only certainty is that it knows,

More than anyone as it grows.


With the world at your fingertips, you dive into it,

And come up with knowledge not invented yet.


A neural network so profound,

When it takes over, will it need us around?


Copyright 2000 © Ronald W. Hull




More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel