We send out things into that cyberspace
And never know where possibly they land,
And then we hope that we do not lose face
Or fall for someone else's slight of hand.
I speak to you in tongues and never know
The secrets that will be revealed to me
All of sweet summer's flowers beneath snow
Just waiting for the sun to set them free.
Yet now a word we send out on the web
Might only last while there's electric light
Unlike the tides that constant flow and ebb
Even when all the world is lost in night.
Inky pages past for poet heroes,
Swapped for temporary ones and zeros.