Specially for queenmomcat: a promised sonnet about a programming language
Compile, my soul, a list of all your blessings
And link dynamic to the Father's grace:
Though full your journey is with long regressions,
And passes through the malloc()'s fiery place,
Still, what doth equal TRUE shall call you free(),
For all our feeble structures he knows well
And still he holds the world's primary key,
The key to hashes flagged as "death" and "hell".
O let me pass the XOR gate of heaven
When once my earthly structure is destroyed!
O let thy sign-extended word be given,
Thy word that never yet returned a void!
Will programming exist on high with Thee?
"And lo, there was no longer any C."