Lines

The sun is shrouded in horizontal lines
Clouds of binary code.
So precise
So perfect.
No algorithm to unlock,
No riddle to be solved
No password to enter,
You are just
There
For everyone to gaze at,
To wonder, to
Focus our incredibly constant
Turning,
Moving.

So whatever clouds are clinging to you
Whatever shooting data is flashing
Across your eyeballs
Blocking your way,
Leave it behind.

And as I muse on our unlikely axis
Suspended in the tar-like black,
My train shoves round a corner
A spark flares on the track
To dramatise the jolt, and -
The sun's gone, or changed, or
Gone
So leave it behind.