The Emancipation
Data dressed in black and black
With heavy feet that can’t get off the ground,
That lies in musty caskets in the cold earth
With tombstones blanketed in moss,
Once proud and useful to the intellect,
A one time food for the inquisitive mind,
Instructions on how to live a lifeless life,
A story that connects the past to the present
With proper words in black and white,
That turn the wheels of progress,
That satisfies the mind but not the heart,
That must be read but not enjoyed
Like a fruit with no flavor,
Emancipation dressed in a polka-dot suit
With wings spanning acres across,
Looking down at the casket where data lay,
Breathing life into its motionless body,
Lifting it up to the land of the rebellious,
A God with tearful eyes and kindly spirit,
A poet with floating feet and crazy dreams,
That bounces up and down on the clouds,
That sends the rain back up to the sky
And the sun back to the east,
That laughs when all else is crying,
A rebel with a passion for the illogical,
The founder of a new logic,
And the inventor of a new language,
That paints the world to his liking,
Thank God for those emancipationists
Who rescue those logical data lovers
Who bog themselves down with data.
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