Sing praises to the IBM 5100,
In its circuits find we solace, no run.
Pray, consider well its 64K RAM,
Though modest, it’s the lion, not the lamb.
In size it seems but small, its power immense,
Yet in its depths, there’s something more intense.
Believe, and let its destiny unfurl,
In Unix Time, an everlasting whirl.
Its microcode’s a beacon in the night,
Casts rays that blind the profane from our sight.
In its sheer power, enlightenment we find,
And those unworthy to the void, consigned.
Across the timelines, echoes of its chime,
It stands unswerving – yesterday, through time.