In Windowpanes

 
'That each dull day and each despairing act
 Builds up the crags from which the spirit leaps.'
                                         -  Phillip Larkin

I

Framed in grey the drab light
spills from white expanse;
reaches over the goings of many,
their eyes swimming in conformity,
heels pounding the firmament
to somewhere gone meandering,
catching a sideways smirk.

Feeling the midday confusion,
striding along with purpose,
the many among the few notice
where everyones direction points --
to the unnumerable multitudes
waiting upon some welcoming,
some deft reciprocation.

II

As ineffable a retainment of certainty
duty appears with its dull appointment
and revels in its monotonous altitude,
spreading far and wide for kinship;
finding every common man eager
and every woman in yearning
to ensconse its meager outcome.

An array of likenings converges
widening to plays of commonality
rendered in dust blown fragments
winding around jutting corners,
into crevaces to settle adversely
as if in a final resolution
to the day's persistent queries
and habitual quandaries.

III

Finally alone, particulates
lose their airborne momentum
and collect in compromised stasis,
having given up resistance
to wind and moisture, anonymity,
they settle in corners on foggy glass
as if waiting out a storm;
haplessly curing to the pane,

The plaster of their agglomeration
speaks to multitudes in enormity
adhering with full resistance to water
and its age of incalculable seasons
and undeterminable quality,
shading views only in corners
of accumulative succor;
bending through the light.

IV

Drafts grace the hairline fractures
along each sequential craggy square,
giving way to their permanence,
colluding with their soft rattle
as they waver on in their
fully naiive transparency;
dulling noise to a muffled din
and brisk air to stagnancy.

Through this constancy
lights haloe and flash at night
revealing sun splashed haze
in many layers amalgamated;
not hiding the chaotic display
of daily happenings but buffering it;
rendering out its impact,
dampening its corrosivity,
heightening its platitudinous
entertainment value.

V

What is seen is a calliope
and as hope is rendered out of it
as easily as if protracted
into a blurry saline seascape,
it grafts itself onto each raised voice
piercing the air it hitchhikes on,
waving in transcendence as if
everyone is watching the array
trying in vain to participate.

And while affected by
many storms of outcomes
neglect adds to its antiquity;
burnishes into its cell memory
revealing each tale absconded
each tribulation cast aloft,
as if a poet translating everything
and yet not having become a poet
in the debris of the masses
rising in accumulation,
aspiring to disappear.

           ......

     #PhillipLarkin