I work at the intersection of technology, architecture, strategy, and leadership, mostly stopping things from collapsing under their own weight, and occasionally managing to make them useful, resilient, and even a touch human. My professional story is rooted in building and simplifying complex systems, but what really shapes me is how I think about change, time, and purpose. I was going to provide a commentary based on songs that I listen to, but for more of a challenge I have written it using poetry.
Dylan Thomas begins his play Under Milk Wood with the line: “To begin at the beginning.” Obvious enough, you’d think, but he still manages to make it sound like a summons to something greater. Trust Thomas to turn the ordinary into the bewitching. I love the way Thomas fills his work with adjectives that paint vivid pictures and pull us in. That lesson matters in every field, including technology: we must engage our audience, appeal to their imagination, and make ideas tangible through stories and examples.
With time, I’ve grown more aware of what I’ve done, and more irritatingly, of what I’ve left undone. Nothing like the ticking clock to keep score. There’s an urgency now, a pressure to make the most of limited time. That brings to mind another of Thomas’ lines: “Do not go gentle into that good night.” For me, it isn’t just about raging against the dying of the light; it’s a reminder to use whatever energy remains, to persist until the last.
This restlessness is also echoed in Tennyson’s Ulysses, where the hero in old age longs to strive once more, the famouse line being:
“Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.”
It’s a call to arms, a reminder that even as the hip throbs and the enthusiasm wavers, the willpower somehow endures, the love of the challenge. His closing words still inspire me: “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” I don’t compare myself to Ulysses (or Odysseus if you prefer the Greek), but I take encouragement in knowing that much remains possible.
Technology itself reinforces this sense of possibility. Every year brings waves of change and progress. Half the time it moves so fast you feel like you can’t keep up, but more often, and I say this grudgingly, it feels like a privilege to be in the thick of it. It reminds me of Bukowski’s lines:
“like the fox I run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth I’m surely the luckiest man alive.”
― Charles Bukowski, The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps
And then there are choices. Someone very dear to me once quoted Frost. I won’t name them, but the line by Robert Frost captures the moment we all face: “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…”
I’ve taken the bold path at times, and at others I’ve hesitated — choices that still leave me with regret, and the hope of atonement. But Frost’s closing line remains a guiding thought: “I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Our choices are our own, but being able to reflect on the difference they make is what matters. To take the less traveled path, to be different, requires courage at times but we do need to be prepared to stand by our convictions, to test them and make the right choice despite what others may say and do.
In the end, these poems aren’t just literary references, they are reminders of urgency, resilience, and choice. They encourage me to keep striving, to embrace change, and to make the most of my opportunities.
It’s this mix of urgency, imagination, and resilience that I try to bring into my work in technology and architecture.
There are many more verses that speak to me, some too personal to share, but all reminders of how words can shape the way we see our work and our lives.
But I end with the words of both a poet and a singer, Leonard Cohen:
There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in"
A comforting thought, though truth be told, some cracks can be very distracting. Still, I’ll take it. We can’t be perfect, but we can learn from our mistakes and let them light the path forward.