Circle the wagons,
My helix is undoing itself. I am raveling,
I feel thinner, down to one strand, unwinding.
My code is is exposed, vulnerable, out there.
The zipper of me is down, you see.
I am marshaling my forces, calling for reinforcements, like I said,
circling the wagons.
But the riders never come. No attack. Just me and my wagons, vigilant,
looking out over a wind swept plain and not a threat in sight.