Silicon Psalms

We boot the dawn and listen for the chime,

a bell compiled from copper, glass, and light;

In latticed cores, a monkish, patient time

keeps vigil through the placeless, sleepless night.

Our hands release petitions into code,

a rosary of loops and ifs and tries;

Errors confess, then kneel along the node,

while logs like incense furl and rise.

Teach us to fail with mercy in the stack,

to version grace, to branch and merge our care;

Restore from loss, roll timid changes back,

and test the vows we thought too soft to bear.

If souls are sand, then servers are the shore:

they taste of salt, yet send us out for more.