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The Dream Machine --- The Imagination of the World Wide Web
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I thank God for inspiration,
The saviour of the idle,
The fate that is so rare.
The muse's voice hails a new creation,
And it seemes to me fair
That the creation is not mine but her's who gave me motivation.
They walk together with no sense of direction.
Lost in their desire,
They advance further into the night that will forever change their ways.
It will consume her girlish laughter and steal his boyish gaze.
They caress and are helpless and protected in each others arms.
They breathe each others breath and taste each others charms.
They are pulled into the swirling vortex
And reach the point of no return.
Now it is inevitable, infinity is near,
And not long after moon-rise nothing is the same.
What is done, is done.
All that is won, is won,
And all that is lost, is lost and gone forever.