Your webpage,
like a dying night star,
lives on as an archive
Your content,
A sliding curve shadow,
will seem to me like a dream
For all the inspiration,
untamed then refined,
that led to your post
Is hidden as I check pages and days
And all the indignation,
that followed your post,
will be hidden for all my days
Your webpage,
that pinged now times out,
will live on in memory
Published,
beyond the reach of comments,
will timelessly glow on my screen
