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Lord,
this screen before me glows
like a pale and watchful moon
over chambers deep with secrets.
Grant that I not become
the haunted prisoner of my own devices,
tapping at the glass in nervous rhythm,
listening for the “Nevermore” of every notification.
When links like dark ravens
come flapping at my door—
“Click once, click quick, click now”—
teach me to ask what crypt they stir,
what trapdoor they unlatch,
what hidden hand they serve.
Guard my heart from the slow descent
into obsession and dread:
that I may not pace the corridors of endless news,
nor dig myself a grave of borrowed fears
beneath the moorings of my mind.
Keep my passwords masked
like lovers at a masquerade,
so the Red Death of data theft
slips not past the gate in borrowed finery.
And when shadowed thoughts
whisper through the wires,
grant me the courage to seek the daylight—
to log off, to rest,
to steward this dark digital crypt
as a treasury of measured use,
not a catacomb of impending doom.
wracton@gmail.com
williamacton.legalshieldassociate.com (Legalshield and IDshield subscription information and applying for associate positions)
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