there is no wonder where there is no hope
we learn this truth before we learn to speak
defining magic as just one more trope

among the ones with which we have to cope
tools of the just and weapons of the meek
there is no wonder where there is no hope

so we declare but yet the merest dope
believes his circumstances are unique
defining magic as just one more trope

that must be learnt before he climbs the *****
towards the greatest highest noble peak
there is no wonder where there is no hope

those are the words and they are no soft soap
serving to guide us unto what we seek
defining magic as just one more trope

of our old language so that gives us scope
for honest understanding and critique
there is no wonder where there is no hope
defining magic as just one more trope

each journey's not a problem for the road
but recollection tricks us into tears
each sudden image coming unawares
and  then revealing there's a complex code
that we'd forgotten then time overflowed
into each heart and took away our fears
washed out the sad crustation of the years
displaying all the good that was bestowed
in this refraction what we see is clear
to older heads unbowed by weight of age
whose eyes preserve a proper youthful sight
with memory of that softer mountain air
of solemn words declared on rustic stage
before a passage into tropic light

we looked on open water for a week
a warm green sea true eater of the sun
great arm of ocean not river or creek

this was our respite from a world made bleak
by constant duty service on the run
we looked on open water for a week

in hope of healing certain the unique
sense of the name would give us what we'd won
great arm of ocean not river or creek

immensity of peace that we could seek
as fullest respite when each day was done
we looked on open water for a week

with smiling faces that forbade critique
of any statement that would overrun
great arm of ocean not river or creek

where we end moving easily and sleek
towards the sunset knowing it was fun
we looked on open water for a week
great arm of ocean not river or creek

in hidden corner there's a place for sleep
you know it well and will come out to play
in your good time meanwhile you'll let me keep
my larger vigils on this cloudy day
seeking the wisdoms of a time of pain
with half an eye cocked for the coming rain
and senses focused on approaching night
(we know it's coming though the day is bright)
hands put together purpose that is kind
while every heart is poised for instant flight
into the bright dominion of the mind

the lives of people never seem so deep
as feline hungers in their simple way
you are the wanderers and we the sheep
our normal tasks will seem to your delay
from urgent hunger and there is no gain
from what we're doing that seems to you plain
it does not come within your line of sight
provides you nothing of your household right
the sort of thing that is best left behind
lest it should bring a darkness or a blight
into the bright dominion of the mind

your eye is focused on the things that creep
across the yard that you would wish to slay
we know this and for fortune will not weep
but wonder at the words you'd like to say
if speech were given and you could complain
at being bound in by such a golden chain
as if we punished your for our delight
and thought your chiding visions could indict
our cruelty in keeping you confined
but see you move with happy summer light
into the bright dominion of the mind

prince you might think this subject impolite
and such debate is not the best to cite
yet we must take the pathways that we find
from your dark rule of chaos and old night
into the bright dominion of the mind

these storms have turned the world all green
and sunlight limns the leaves in gold
no time today to chide or scold

we look and smile the birds all preen
while eager hunters become bold
these storms have turned the world all green

for beauty we have set the scene
a story known and often told
that hearts are broken and consoled
these storms have turned the world all green

no matter what the words remain the same
echoing blandly down the aching years
our beast once wild has now turned safely tame

your voice is one that could with depth proclaim
ending to hurt and to the weight of fears
no matter what the words remain the same

as when we started infants in the game
certain that we'd be the new cavaliers
our beast once wild has now turned safely tame

and we have come despite the threat of shame
to know the meaning of so many tears
no matter what the words remain the same

still they are uttered out of need for blame
while horror is doled out in lavish shares
our beast once wild has not turned safely tame

and cowers uncertain of the fading flame
as each who waits at last wails and despairs
no matter what the words remain the same
our beast once wild has now turned safely tame

they fill in visions and repeat in sound
the touch of light on rock the moving shade
marking a changing time then the parade
of trucks and buses moving folk around
since we must hurry to get off this ground
back to our homes back to the normal trade
of simple speaking in words that are flayed
out of all meaning then twisted and bound
a short escape leads to another place
with older energies but the same tide
washed on that shore beneath a certain light
allowing these historians to trace
the roots of anger and the base of pride
straight to their homes in certainty and right