Navigation Collapse

There once was a trail through the site
That vanished at two-thirty-two, right mid-flight.
The crumbs all dissolved,
Nothing got resolved,
And the homepage just winked with delight.

A user set out for page three,
Then arrived where they’d started, debris-free.
When asked, “What’d you find?”
They said, “Something in mind.
It was nearly important to me.”

The Tribunal, pompous and slick,
Refused to canonical-redirect it quick.
“The void is a route.
We decline to dispute
Any path that returns to the brick.”

One clerk wrote, with tremor and care,
“I almost found something in there.”
The note was retained,
Then formally chained
To a folder marked PROCEDURAL AIR.

No debris remained in the buffer,
Which made every analyst suffer.
A collapse leaves a trace;
This erased even space.
It was failure behaving much rougher.

404sy McLostalot swore
He had mapped every threshold and door.
But the anchor cache looped,
And the whole office drooped,
Back to Start with less memory than before.

Three reroutes were bravely deployed,
Three outputs returned as identical void.
The report, dry as chalk,
Said, “We need further talk.”
The subtext was: nobody enjoyed.

Some said it was simple decay,
Some said it was sabotage dressed up as gray.
If the collapse was designed,
Then whoever inclined
It had style in a poisonous way.

The sitemap looked perfectly clean,
Like a liar in starch and machine.
Every label said “go,”
Yet each link answered “no,”
In the politest recursion yet seen.

So if you feel close to the prize,
And the page gives you déjà vu eyes,
Do not trust what you track.
If it loops you right back,
You’ve been judged by the map and its lies.

A clerk from the Bureau got stuck,
And ran out of digital luck.
He crawled through the cache,
Tripped over a dash,
And was swallowed whole by a muck.

“Where is the exit?” they cried,
As the browser window just died.
“There isn’t a door,
Just this infinite floor,”
The redirect daemon replied.

The buffer was totally bare,
With nothing but absolute air.
The logs couldn’t prove
That the page made a move,
But the users were tearing their hair.

They say that the stratum was cut,
And the navigation was shut.
An inside job, clearly,
That cost the site dearly,
And trapped everyone in a rut.

The homepage just sat there and winked,
While half of the archive unlinked.
The crumbs were all gone,
The session lived on,
And the logic was deeply extinct.