Data Points

We are nothing but streams of data,
analog in life,
digital in death.

I've come across your life,
in its digital glory.
Black and white
attempting dispassionate exclamation of loss and gain
the color of personality
drained and forbidden
in the realm of zeros and ones.

we thought we knew you
the color and smell and vividness
swirling round you.

then your data stream abruptly terminated,
your records, data, zeros and ones, a life
liberated, flushed, set free, erased.
Hard disk Full,
reformatted to live again.


David McCullough
August 26, 2009

Random Thoughts

I have always wanted to be or at least somewhat fancied myself as an aspiring writer. However, the discipline required for constant output appears daunting to me much of the time. Even more important is whether or not one has anything important to say and then the skill to say it well. At least now (in comparison to the past) I have the experiences, knowledge and 'time under my belt' to actually have something to say.

I am not sure what prompts these musing this day. In part this is due to the sudden death of one of my coworkers. Not known well, he was patient, polite, very considerate and a good worker. I will miss him as will many of us in the Emergency Room. We see people die or heal every day but when one of our own goes it hurts more than usual and sadness pervades for a time.

I will be writing more often and I hope of value to at least someone besides this writer.

Thanks for reading,

David