In the crowd but not of it,
I’m swept along like a leaf.
A floater, fleetingly feeling his way,
Unwittingly seeking relief.
I’m part of the crowd but aloof,
Out of hundreds, a singular cell.
Unnoticed, unheard, it’s all somehow absurd,
We each have a story to tell.
Vapourisation, some weird conflagration,
Should suddenly cause me to cease,
The crowd, though diminished, flows on to the finish,
Content with its version of peace.
7 October 2018