Am I the stairs or climbing it?

              

Having moved through the years like clouds;

reached a crescendo, passed through it,

and still travelling to an ending.

Upward or downward?

It seems like the perspective of height;

the weighing up of the steps that have brought me here,

each built one atop the other,

but sometimes contrary like Escher’s stairs,

labyrinthine, incomprehensible like a mind;

maybe I am.