Ode to the internet

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My password is my ‘open sesame.’
At evening, day-time or
in the insomniac small hours
my fingertips can tap into a treasury
rich as a robber’s cave. It holds
each branch of knowledge, good and evil
like the mysterious tree.
Its insubstantial web cocoons the globe,
in threads of gossamer. It carries
my messages of love across the seas,
brings adverts, invitations, news and scams. 
Secrets are broadcast from its brooding clouds.
Indiscriminate, it takes the showers of words
in mails and tweets and posts
flung at it every day, and carries them
like flotsam, all bobbing
on its ample waves.

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