as granite thrusts from magma. and cooled,
is covered by moss and ferns,
does Prada cover moley, flaking skin, to pose as Nature's Truth...
those trapped by Age, in shame and guilt,
are quick to judge the flesh of Youth...

age, the decomposition of perfection,
wrapped in irony and contradiction,
leads us, falling forward, back to Earth,
to horizons, yet unperceived in its turnings,
and ventures, in constant manifestation,
till evanescence tosses mortal coil
and reunites form with pure energy..
returning to the brightest light, unseen....
stripped of mortal shelter...