The Electric Pulse

A short reflection on the hidden energy that connects us in a digital age.

The Electric Pulse

There is a hum beneath the floor,

A silent song from wall to wall,

A current through the open door,

That answers every silent call.

We weave our lives in lines of light,

Across the screen and through the air,

A thousand signals in the night,

To prove that someone else is there.

It isn’t cold, this copper vine,

It isn’t steel that holds the spark;

It’s just a way for yours and mine

To find each other in the dark.