All words sink into silence
All images evaporate

We are stuff of pixel-clouds –
spun together by networks
that arise for a time
then dissipate.

Gazing at the graveyards of history
what can be said?

Efforts at exposition seem futile –
who wants to listen to
archaeologists now dead?

No matter how much we browse
the libraries of the past
eventually everything becomes
a discarded stack.

Contemplating the cyber-libraries of tomorrow –
is anything worthy of note?

Whirling through time and space
and soon to become remote,
perhaps we should relish the bubbles of each moment?

Pop!
Another bubble just broke!