Ode to a Distracted Soul - with a Compiler Error
They ask for love, or skies at dawn,
Or spirit walking barefoot, calm—
But my poor brain boots up instead
A loop that won’t get out of my head.
I try to rhyme the moon with grace,
Yet spawn a sprite in empty space.
The stars align—how sweet, how pure—
But segfaults make that thought unsure.
Love whispers softly, “Stay awhile,”
Nature blooms in perfect style;
I nod, inspired, nearly there—
Then debug shadows in the air.
The river flows, a sacred sign,
Its logic clear, its curve divine—
If only I could step through time
And optimize its gentle rhyme.
My soul seeks peace, the heart says “feel,”
The mind says, “Just one more compile.”
I pray in pixels, chant in code,
While metaphors wait to be loaded.
Perhaps love is a state machine,
With bugs we trace, but rarely clean;
And spirit—threaded, shared, and true—
Runs best when nothing blocks the queue.
So here I stand, both monk and nerd,
Seeking meaning, slightly absurd:
If heaven’s real, I hope it lets
Me write one poem—then test my sprites.
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