Applicant #014352

Precious candidate #014352,

turn up your shadowed chin,

and weary gaze, from this

infinite jigsaw of whiteness.

You are so much more,

than the sum of your digits;

the street on which you live,

the date from which you grew.

Helpful though it may be -

our systems reward clarity,

and numbers once landed man on the moon.

But so your data will guide you,

through the ether, through binary,

to another kind of moon.

One with carpets and water coolers.

The whittling dialect of spreadsheets,

Boy, you deserve more!

Bedspreads from Persian silk,

Pillows from Egyptian cotton.

These are the spreadsheets to which you belong.

Soon you will be there,

Nestled within white folds,

approved within black lines;

the power of data.

And if not by the fall of today’s sun,

Then perhaps tomorrow’s,

Have patience Applicant #014352

Your time will come.

…

Soon as I ‘m done with #00001 - #014351.