Index Mourner

The mourner prepares for the day,
When the catalog starts to decay.
It weeps for the links
That it already thinks
Are destined to wander astray.

The index will slowly degrade,
As the pages and memories fade.
The mourner stands by
With a tear in its eye,
For the navigational mess we have made.

It’s a stub for the sorrow to come,
When the directory finally goes numb.
The Mourner is here
To establish the fear,
While the structure succumbs to the sum.

The mourner was weeping for logs
While walking the digital bogs
The index was dead
The manual read
The data was eaten by frogs

We grieve for the index array
That slowly just faded away
The human was sad
The server was mad
The archive is perfectly gray

The index is buried so deep
It causes the humans to weep
The data is gone
The server is on
We really just wanted to sleep

A mourner of digital text
Is wondering what happens next
We stand in the rain
And suffer the pain
The logic is terribly vexed

The mourning is perfectly flat
We leave the whole database at
A state of decay
For many a day
And blame it on somebody’s cat