Hair Thin Glass Fibres

They are coming, oh no they are here!
Just strands and strands of hair-thin
Glass fibres, causing so much hue
And no cry, landing and wanting
To be the news beat of the day
Much to the chagrin of others

In Mombasa, or is it Mtunzini,
Or Pemba, and Djibouti and, far
Away in Fujairah, or is it Mumbai, I
Forget which, nonetheless they are
Stranded, that is the strands landed
On the East African seaboard

They shall be lit up, the strands
That is, and then the bands shall
Have width, the bandwidth that is
Will take a quantum leap, not of
Faith, but of quantums, whatever
The leap, its shall be taken

Am just saying, with so much hair
And air, we should not add mohair
As in more air, no make that, eh
Back to glass, the looking one
Where we now look beautiful, for
We are finally on the digital map

No longer across the yawning chasm
Of the digital divide, we are now just
Divided by the last mile divide, as our
ISPs make false starts, since they do not
Know a thing about what we want, but
Then what’s new, except the fibre cables?

The landscape so changed, we must rise
And embrace the new technology, else
We shall remain in the dark, unlit scape
As in landscape, else we shall rotate to
Portrait, and still look gleam, not grim
Hence, the hair thin glass fibres.