I hear the past <br />It calls my name <br />And It shows me <br />Hundreds of days, <br /> <br />Most are all <br />Just empty marks, <br />Just punched out holes <br />In the punch card <br />Of my pre-programmed past. <br /> <br />Of course <br />I am the programmer, <br />One without an ending <br />One without a script. <br /> <br />And I can hear <br />The future screaming, <br />Tugging at my soul <br />The unknown days are shouting <br />Programming, <br />As the days go by. <br /> <br />Of course <br />I am the programmer, <br />The beginning far away, <br />The ending so very close. <br /> <br />So I punch the card <br />As time <br />Connects the dots. <br />And the unknown script? <br />It’s just the present, <br />Programming <br />An unknown future.<br /><br />Sandra Osborne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-punch-card/
