In e2's fields new writeups shine
Above the soft links, line on line,
That hook them up. As time goes by;
They fade, and noders wonder why
Klaproth on them has failed to dine.

We are the nodes. Short days ago
We formed of thought and 'gel aglow.
Ed cooled, upvoted, yet now we lie
In Klaproth's fields.

Fallen fallow 'til in ether
Heisenberg strung sounds together
A project bold mined that raw ore
Of writings long since gone before
And cast it fresh on pinna's shore.

For two plus years, voices did ring
And cheer and boast and flaunt and sing,
Of glories new and old profound,
Recorded whilst the beer went 'round.
A patchwork and yet glorious thing.

We are the nodes. Our voice has stilled.
A paucity of help has killed
The podcast. Silent anew we lie
In Klaproth's fields.

Take up the podcast with a will
To you with voices deep or shrill
We throw the mike; yours to turn high.
Break not the faith with us who read
For H., leave not the 'Cast among the dead
In Klaproth's fields.

With due apologies to Lt. Col. John McCrae,
from whose famous elegy* In Flanders Fields I have shamelessly cribbed pastiched.

* In the general sense.
I first tried to write something in Elegiac couplet, but damn, that's hard.

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