Happy are these fingers which trace,
the compliant code upon your place
for the sacred validation you found,
then the joy others see on your face.
O time there is no code you can't mend,
that bitter quick fix which was no friend.
But you wonder why you did not try,
lest friends lure you on whom to depend.
Your non compliant code expelled from earth,
gave your soul the joy held at your birth,
for was this not a promised delight,
your spent hours were, spent for worth?
O great of soul! How gladly would I give
all I have in treasure on this earth I live,
if to others your knowledge I could tell,
and in those hearts, your spirit could dwell,
On this earth, there are many who are kind,
tho other than a handful, many not to mind.
Who learn wisdom from your watchful eye,
least they be sighted, but truly are blind.
You are one who does not squalor space,
of outward pride, your creation not a trace;
But some curious stranger in another land
sights and remembers your web site place.
The way through you toward WAI will remain,
though with the validation a growing pain.
We look again at you and your perfect place
when your lamp thus lit, trying is not in vain. |
