I sing of a house that trembled with alarms,
Its spirit agitated by mortal alarms,
A forest of beeps and a chorus of wails,
Where the sensors and systems did falter and fail.
O Zabbix, thou keeper of silent watch,
Thou guardian of data, thou keeper of facts,
Thy alerts did rise like a tempest of dread,
A storm of the mundane, yet grand in its tread.
The door sensors cried out, their pulse was unbound,
The motion detectors wept in the dark, unfound.
The camera did falter, its gaze turned to stone,
And the lights of the terrace did flicker and groan.
Yet midst this commotion, a trivial did gleam—
A cream forgotten by Janne, a small dream.
The servers did slumber, their pulse faint and weak,
While the filesystems groaned, their space reaching peak.
O Muse, grant me verse, and a tale of this strife,
Of the house in its woe, and the tech that did thrive.