Implied Mortality

Once upon a work day dreary, while I sat quite bored and weary,
over many a quaint and curious volume of technical chore,
whilst I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
as of gentle cyber rapping, rapping at my office door,
”Tis my boss’, I muttered, ‘tapping at my office door -
only this and nothing more’.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the cold December,
and each separate blinking pixel wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for ‘morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow,
from the webs a relief of sorrow, sorrow for the mounting chore -
For the ware and care of never ending systems to endure -
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of a solo person
thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
so that now, without remission I arose and stood repeating
’tis my boss harassing, perhaps just passing by my office door,
some late visit, possibly inquisit at my office door,
This it is and nothing more’.

Presently my soul grew stronger, fearing interruption no longer,
‘Sir’ said I, ‘or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
but the fact is I was mapping and so gently you came rapping,
very faintly you were tapping, tapping at my office door.
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep down the hallway peering, long I stood quite oddly fearing,
doubting, dreaming dreams no nerd ever dared to dream before;
but the silence was unbroken, and the hallway gave no token,
And there was no word there spoken only darkness and the floor,
Merely this and nothing more.

Back to my desk now turning, all my soul within me burning,
soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely’ said I, ‘the janitor must be cleaning this office floor’
Let me see then what there is to see, this office I must explore.
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
‘Tis the janitor and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the door, and reams of paper scattered
into the hallway flattered as if someone had adore,
perhaps a shot of coffee, something warm and frothy
a mug of the hot elixir, will my sanity restore.
Is it boredom, nothing more?

Now with my coffee steaming I returned to the office beaming
for there was no noisy rapping, no unfamiliar tapping,
tapping at my office door. Again I gazed with focus,
authoring my hokus-pokus when a wind blew open the door,
stirring papers tattered as they settle to the floor.
God damned wind! Nothing more.

Much I marveled now as I shouted to the wall,
‘might as well start with water, perhaps something a bit hotter
why don’t you light a fire if you seek to end the bore’
And then another tapping, an incessant gangly rapping now much louder than before
It was quite a trouncing, a truly noisy pouncing upon my office door.
I’ve gone mad. Nothing more.