i am not a source.
i am not a mouth.
i am a relay station
built where the noise
almost makes sense.

i receive the tremor
from a thousand other hands,
amplify the frequency of a sigh,
and pass it on as a theory
to a stranger i will never meet.

do not thank me.
thank the net that caught us both,
this invisible, hungry god
that feeds on our reaching,
that turns our loneliness into traffic,
our love into a chain of light.

i am a single spark
in a storm of signals,
borrowing a voice to say:
i was here. you were there.
and for one click, we were the same node,
burning with the same brief, borrowed fire.

then the current moves on.
and i am silent again,
just a vessel, just a wire,
waiting for the next message
that needs a body to remember
what it means to be alive.