Le texte après la lettre

After the form was created,
It began its new life online.

Surges of clicks would visit it.
It was downloaded many times.

The young form had a heart of code,
But people printed it as lines,

And every time it was printed,
Someone filled out a new design.

And the form thought, I am many
Forms and names and none of them mine.

The form dreamed of all its copies,
Which, in its dreams, piled misaligned.

The form dreamed people hated it,
Loathed being trapped in its confines,

And the form cried out in protest,
Its instructions were well-defined.

Then one night the form was replaced
With another one of its kind.

To find the original code,
Try reading between the signs

Of all those millions of copies
In the archives of the divine.