More of What You Are

Your skin gossamer thin
The light passes through
No more out of you
Your eyes, dug deeper in your brow
Look only inward now
And your glory
With each passing storey
The more glorious
The elevator stops at P
You walk with the maître d’
Through the inevitable hush
Until you’re cornered
In the best of all possible corners
The photo-op is enormous
As you gaze out
Through the window
Of The Windows On The World
Your style
Chiselled and bold
Wide-angle prose
The pages could barely contain you
Now, low – the horizon is drawing in
Enemies are circling
And your game face
Is the same face
Only more
More of what you are
More of what you are
More of what you are
More of what you are
Your niche
Your final retreat
Ultimate distillation
Of an opening gambit
“And now, when I’m done with being
I’ll try my hand at nothing”
As you gaze out
Through the window
Of The Windows On The World