Shepley

The first thing you see is his back*
It’s Shepley, at work at his Mac

At home in his house
With his left-handed mouse

There’s nothing that Shepley could lack

When Shepley’s at work, there’s no chatter,
No gossip, no banter, no patter

For there to be seen
On Shepley’s great screen

Is consciousness turning to matter

And a glorified matter it be
It’s downright celestial to see

Refined in its form
Dignified, warm —

It’s glimpse after glimpse of GC

At one time his trade’s only tools
Were paper and pencil and rules

He’d sketch a design
And send it downline —

Ah, the days of slant tables and stools

But now he has gone supersonic
That is to say, electronic:

With his system turned on
And his mouse as baton

He’s conducting his own philharmonic

A Mac master, as all will agree
His system is something to see

Well-stocked with cache,
It can scan, fax, and flash —

It can probably race the Grand Prix

He sits, almost absent of motion
Like the silent expanse of the ocean

He taps a few keys
Clicks the mouse — and one sees

The action that’s born of devotion

The result of this silence in action
Creates such profound satisfaction

Beauty and order
In the most ornate border —

His work has magnetic attraction

He takes whatever we write
And lifts it to such a great height

We fuss and we edit
But cannot take credit

For that final effect of delight

There once was a time, way back when
His name was Stephen back then

Can you believe
That he was called Steve?

It’s simply outside of our ken

One day a special friend came
And took a good look at that frame

With heart open wide
She looked deep inside

And from his form cognized his name

“Your true name is Shepley,” said she.
And suddenly Shepley was free

Freedom to grow
To the man we now know —

Free to be all he would be

There’s more to his life than design —
There’s sleep — and he likes it by 9:00

With his share of all-nighters
And dawn’s-early-lighters

Early to bed suits him fine

Dawn breaks, and what can he say?
His work is the same as his play

He powers up Quark**
And turns on the torque —

And it looks like another fine day

The service that Shepley performs!
Flyers, brochures by the swarms

Shepley’s the maker
Of print by the acre —
Banners for stages
Book covers and pages
Letterhead, tickets
Displays by the thickets
Response cards and ads
Newsletters — gads! —

And the world‘s most beautiful forms

We sit and admire for hours —
Where does his work get its powers?

He’s the world’s crown prince
Of background floral tints —

He always presents knowledge with flowers

And whenever we see a new Source
The first thing we look for, of course

Is his Jeremy strip —
Hipper than hip —

Mr. Natural aligned with the Force***

With the smile ever turning his lips
The laughter that follows his quips

He’s nattily dressed
With a baseball cap crest —

The man is a trip among trips

Surpassing himself year by year
He’s made something perfectly clear

His ocean inside
Is opening wide —

What marvels are on their way here?

We’ll give him awards as we find them,
After high people have signed them

The one trouble is,
They’re already his —

Shepley’s the one who designed them

Shepley’s so finely aligned
With the knowledge he’s superbly designed

He truly does justice
To what Maharishi entrusts us —

He’s enlightened in heart and in mind

Some people leap, others step
Some folks are hip, others hep

But the world that we find
Has been so designed

That there’s one, and there’s only one, Shep

July 17, 1992

* For many years Shepley lived and worked in a “pod” apartment – pods being the many small dorms we had till we tore them down in the early 2000s. He sat at his desk facing away from the door to his office, so that you’d be greeted by his back when you walked in.

** Quark Express was the page layout platform of choice at the time.

*** The Source is a monthly newspaper published in Fairfield and circulated around the region. For a number of years Shepley published a cartoon strip in The Source called Jeremy.