Sunday, March 10, 2013

Thoughts on the Death of Aaron Swartz

I imagine you in that darkened closet
An unremarked node of imbricated data
A confluence of modulated electrons
Constrained to color-coded worms
Of deep red copper fleshed in plastic
You were picking the lock
On a box filled with light

But my mind turns from that beginning
To the moments before the end
And my thoughts have the texture of
The surface of
The wood of
The wheel on
Which they would break you
Rough, splintered, unfinished
Poorly formed
But sufficient

And in those moments
Were you hooting with woe?
Indrawing great sobs
Like a child with whooping cough?
Or were you moving surely through
That world of knife edged shadows
Making a choice that seemed
The most adult you had ever made?

Perhaps you will be reborn
In the electric clash
Of the mind of a child
Understanding something new
Or the moment of surprise
When two opposing views
Are shown to be equivalent

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