After my formal training, I first “apprenticed” as a programmer under the mentorship of Scott Tadman; the sense of awe and inferiority in the presence of the master was often so strong that, when called to make changes or updates to his code, I was inspired to great (tedious) heights of simile: “it’s like trying to add a wing to your seamless alien skyscraper using only wattle and daub”, &c.
I was recently feeling inspired to write a poem about that experience, but wanted to get a bit more optimism in there.
On Coding in the Presence of the Master
I follow thee, thy lines: a lacework train
Of twining, blooming, elevated will,
And rudely grope to grok, ungrasping still
All but the faintest echoes of thy brain;
Mine own is yet too stamp’d by lazy youth:
Its gyri and its sluci smoothly swirl
In foolish curls, consigning my deferral
Of understanding thine exquisite truth.
But I am plastic, motivated, free
To rule and regulate those grooves, ensure
By wresting curves to crenellations, cure