Dust rising from System mountains,

My logic is dead:
I thought the world was stable.

I hunt the crash,
with algorithmic oil to smooth the modules
to keep my world intact.

I hunt in functions
running down statements, through calls,
chasing echoes of errors
always in the next procedure.

Sometimes I trip a pointer,
and the system rebuilds itself.
Sometimes I put each assignment back,
one by one
to find some element gone;
but no tool reports a fault:
the program stays down.

It should feel so good,
when I win the world again;
should satisfy.
But it never does.

These quakes should never happen.

image: poem


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