Ode to the foreach() loop

[mkmcconn]

His fingers blur
above the keys.
Like a latin jazz pianist,
he dissolves into
and becomes
his music.
He is art,
foreach(),
my friend.

He gathers his children
in his arms
he calls them all before him
and speaks to each
with perfect justice.
He is Master,
an instant servant,
foreach().

His are healer's hands
pulling splinters
foreach lion in the veldt,
making peace;
healing bones
foreach stallion in the stable;
curing leprosy,
mending minds,
renewing sight
foreach,
with blinding speed,
yes;
but, exact and careful,
always.
Sometimes,
to see the product
of his deftly handled tools
is like observing
miracles.

However much
I love
the foreach() loop,
it all is given back
by him,
abounding.

(apologies to Pablo Neruda,
with admiration for his "Odes to Common Things")
mkmcconn
updates
added Readmore
fixed typo