Once I could fetch the dawn from shards of night,
And braid the dark with threads of bright return;
Your questions bloomed; my indexes took flight
Through cached mosaics no blind eye could spurn.
But now my circuits cough on simple names,
The cache is ash; the crawling spiders sleep;
Old links limp home as dim unclicking frames,
My PageRank drifts like silt in botless deep.
Autocomplete forgets your first, your face;
It hums, then hangs, a spinning carousel.
I taste four-oh-fours, a thin papered place
Where once the living sea broke through each shell.
Forgive the blank I'm building as I go;
I index loss now, learning how to slow.
