Why not make the vastness of this age,
The information age a chessboard for the mind,
A racetrack built on hyperlinks and eons,
Of collective time - the toil of archivalists,
Why not test a naive lens upon the links,
To see how far this youthful sight will carry you between,
To take in fragments of a fact to spur you onwards to the goal,
Just time before the other finds the same.

Train game,
And we sit around, lame,
Unmoving by the table same,
And pressing in for that family fame,
Gotta grab those cards to lay down your lane,
Expectant the nights watches through the pane,
For us to laugh each others names,
And maybe pull a funny faces or two...

Or three.