SOME DAYS

Some days I think
we are all jumbled
together in a Scheherazade
yet I'm determined to play solo
in my own sax serenade
not expecting to be humbled
in memory of a hit parade
nor ever suspecting the advice
of inspecting clever knowledge
at our own relaxed ages
through subterranean passages
of outstanding language
in context of our secrets
to presage the prestige
of our own philosophies
in a labyrinth of the compass
of our geometric passing
stages at our enigmatic time
of complex alphabets
over a seasonal watchtower
of powerful reason
and trespassing rhyme.