I sit before the glow,

a screen, a canvas,

each pixel, a breath

of life, waiting for my touch.

The lines I write,

small whispers in the dark,

HTML, CSS,

a language only some understand,

but it speaks to me

in ways the world cannot.

I remember my first project,

a simple page,

colors too bright, margins too wide,

but it was mine.

I loved it then,

like a child’s first words,

imperfect but pure.

Now, the challenges are harder,

responsive designs

that bend and break

in the quiet hours of night.

JavaScript dances

through my thoughts,

promises whispered

but sometimes broken.

Why do I do this?

I ask the empty room.

Because every line of code,

every color chosen

is a reflection,

of me, of you,

of the way we connect

through a glowing screen

across a world

so wide,

so distant.

The shadows grow long

as the bug I couldn’t fix

wraps itself around me.

But I keep going,

because there’s beauty

in the struggle,

in the way the light flickers

after hours of work.

And when it all aligns—

the divs, the grids, the arrays—

there’s a moment of peace,

as if the world itself

stops,

and the code

breathes

with life.

Take my hand,

and I’ll show you,

the beauty in these broken lines,

the light that comes

from late nights and errors,

the way front end

reflects who we are—

fragile, but capable

of building something

that lasts,

if only for a moment,

on the vast expanse

of the web.

In the end,

we are all builders,

constructors of fleeting dreams,

turning code into connection,

pixels into meaning,

and ourselves

into something

that shines.