For a while now.
I have been leading a double life.
As a dead rocket scientist.
Encased in my library.
Communication filtered through pages.
Words washed clean through.
To reveal the code.
Night and day.
Secretly talking to dead birds.
Black and white.
Life and death.
Pied.
In my library.
There is no horizon.
Only rockets rise to greet the dawn.
I await your questions.
Blessed forever to be.
The conduit.
Between the birds.
And you.
A dot waiting for a dash
Waiting for a Pied Wagtail.
To tap.