Oh, for a Muse of FHIR

A prologue for the oncoming storm, with apologies to William Shakespeare:

O for a Muse of FHIR, that would transcend
The brightest HL7 of invention,
A country for a stage, CEOs to act
And patients to behold the swelling scene!
 Then should the humble Posnack, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and FHIR
Crouch for employment.
 But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy parchment to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
 The vasty tombs of Regs? or may we cram
Within this short time O the very reams
That did affright the air at the Register?
 O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place 5 megabytes;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your portable documents work.
Suppose within the girdle of this time
 Are now confined these mighty industries,
Whose high portals and abutting interface
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our uninteroperability with your thoughts;
Let a thousand flowers bloom upon man,
And make imaginary puissance;
 Think when we talk of servers, that you auth them
Sending their resource in the receiving net;
For 'tis your data that now must deck your apps,
 Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
 Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our reading.