Philip the philosopher

There’s no closure
this
is the exploding edifice
the imposing of another
what if
and it’s all about me

the sea of faces
washing over me
the crashing of waves
the humanity
the futile gesture
this texture of my life

gritty
rougher around the edges
but
I am being given a softer
contour
older age has some
benefits
which come unbidden.

Life
and the apertures through
which I see
hold me

death
and I’ll look beyond the door
hear perceptions roar
the exploding of the edifice
the
myth exposed
and I supposed it to be
peaceful.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.