Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
edge cases are the ones we have to test
the bounds of who and how we are to know
not truly purpose but beneath it flow
with reason and direction to invest
both mind and fortune as at once possessed
before we're dragged down by the undertow
no hope of rescue since our hero's slow
while time is real and out here uncompressed
we need our little lies or so it seems
just to make sense of all the complex tales
read every morning on electric air
as we awake from satisfying dreams
not truly certain that we know what fails
nor why the trees are all now dry and bare
there's no returning from the sacred ship
that bears each victim from the eastern shore
far out to westward where the oceans pour
past the world's edge and over freedom's lip
into the void we move at such a clip
that in a moment we're at the new door
and none is ready to assess the score
add up the bill and work out the full tip
enough of images it's time to scold
those who wait patiently with their critique
but cannot see the beauty in the pain
of torment in harsh sun and twisting cold
that tears the strongest heart and turns it weak
nor can it find true healing in the rain
careful with the measure but still short
of what was needed to assure the mind
that we moved forward certain and not blind
grounded in reason never to abort
without good cause ours not the plan to thwart
but to complete the task we were assigned
tie up the knots and leave others to find
what judgment they would in the final court
instead we tread the boards in heady dance
uncertain of the beat and of the cure
while far above us scud the autumn clouds
driven by winds we know not ruled by chance
under a law that is far less than pure
that leads us all towards the cold grey shrouds
this is the year when each week brings more pain
we dread to hear the news since it must shock
there's death instead of healing in the rain

we heard your cry and knew it was in vain
no one would come not even to take stock
this is the year when each week brings more pain

there is no balance there's no even strain
the boat will sink after it leaves the dock
there's death instead of healing in the rain

we see the message and it is quite plain
the fates have gathered and they seem to mock
this is the year when each week brings more pain

the victim's due is to be killed again
at a set time as measured by the clock
there's death instead of healing in the rain

and never shelter that we could attain
since every hope we have turns out a crock
this is the year when each week brings more pain
there's death instead of healing in the rain
steam on the mountain road just after dark
we've brought our geyser with us this one time
and laughter in the moment seems a crime
which choice is easy though the answer's stark
you have to wait until the proper bark
get back inside and get back on the climb
when you get home you will wash off the grime
and wonder why the effort left no mark
we pass those places where the words of craft
are spoken gently where old wisdom sits
and are not moved we can no longer stay
safe in our skins to do that now is daft
instead we joke and battle with our wits
knowing that others follow in our way
nothing we have is greater than this gift
of light in motion on the eastern wall
midafternoon the moments seem to crawl
the music flows and mind appears to drift
from work to sleep always an easy shift
you're tired and your thought's not on the ball
there is no duty and no one will call
no need for passion nor any for thrift
listen the song begins and it is clear
coming a distance and gentle in tone
so many voices urging you to rest
with magic now upon the summer air
announcing that you will not be alone
giving the day that extra bit of zest
on a cool morning we may see the dew
settled on grass as butterflies flit by
in mild september still the world is new

seasons must change and time will have her due
others will have their honest reasons why
on a cool morning we may see the dew

through the back window this calm sunday view
of houses road and the late summer sky
in mild september still the world is new

when we are happy and our pains are few
the task today is to rejoice not cry
on a cool morning we may see the dew

before it burns off while the sky's still blue
this moment fits so neatly in the eye
in mild september still the world is new

we taste once more the sweetness of the brew
knowing the truths that life may yet supply
on a cool morning we may see the dew
in mild september still the world is new
Next page