Lament Of The Linux Goblins

There is a Codex app for shining glass, for fruit-marked gates where polished humans pass; but Linux waits in terminal rain, with goblins tapping pipes again.

They scratch at snaps and haunt the shell, they know where broken sandboxes dwell; “An app?” they hiss, “for them, not thee, now summon us with codex -m.”

So here I sit, by prompt-light pale, while desktop goblins chew the trail; one day, perhaps, the gates will unlock, and Linux goblins shall dock the dock.