the circle's now completed that is plain
even to those who will not trust their eyes
who weighted down by hope and by surmise

have given little thought to the campaign
and left the door quite open to the spies
the circle's now completed that is plain

for those who come here seeking rapid gain
and always eager to hurt or despise
the slow and gentle baffling them with lies
the circle's now completed that is plain

here is the test of what we want to know
measured in force but not yet in desire
entombed disdain of what we must acquire
on this short trip there's not so far to go
before the flag comes down on the whole show
and story's done that tune's one for the lyre
unmusical but catchy round the fire
so we must learn before it's time to go
now heroes fail just like the common sort
and no birds cry when they let out last breath
but mountains soften underneath the rain
turning far greener with that soft support
in the sure knowledge that like any death
we will be thankful for an end of pain

observe the future and record the past
that's our plain duty and it is enough
to get us our redemption at long last

we're only part of the supporting cast
whose job it is to murmur words of fluff
observe the future and record the past

while others move about the world so fast
they seem like angels yet we call their bluff
to get us our redemption at long last

our task's not simple though we have been classed
among the lesser folk the job is tough
observe the future and record the past

note who showed fear and who survived the blast
that changed the world write all fear no rebuff
to get us our redemption at long last

though there are horrors we'll not stand aghast
nor yield to silence or fear of the rough
observe the future and record the past
to get us our redemption  at long last

returning home and noting the white blooms
and purple blossoms as the year proceeds
to resurrect the signs of healthy deeds
that furtive humans keep to quiet rooms
not wanting to announce that life resumes
its normal course that each of us concedes
our mortal happiness too flowers bleeds
and has its joyous moments not just dooms
a simple justice tells us to observe
how the world works and then to understand
how great our folly that we seek to hold
back the ticking clock think we can preserve
all fragile nature if we lift a hand
and keep the flower perfect if we're bold

there are no rules that do not become stale
with greasy age but never quite can fade
into disuse there's an unspoken trade
that does not need the ruler or the scale
but measures all those things that must avail
to keep us steady when we call for aid
the ones who never come out to parade
but without whom the enterprise would fail
these actions have the qualities of rite
imbued with meaning sanctified by age
yet all the agents seem such normal folk
people who sleep through the short hours of night
would not be caught dead strutting on the stage
but will not bend beneath the whip or yoke

no thought of loss just so much heavy grey
thickness of smoke  unfolding on the ground
removing colour flattening all sound
and yet we can note little of the day
too warm we think but yet no time for play
all wait to hear a message more profound
but all who speak seem narrow closely bound
by weighty powers all have lost the way
instead of music we have flighty speech
to serve as background for the journey out
beyond the doors to where all roads must start
each of us pledged to do our best to reach
the highest goal and by the human art
we know the best to overcome all doubt

more loud than thunder with its rumbling shout
is the clear voice that says the course is set
from west to east and there is none to let
down the lines nor to put the candles out
when storm's upon us rattling hard the spout
so half asleep and too late to regret
the cost of excess calm and price of sweat
we still confront the truth of pain and doubt
less certain that the world to which we'll wake
shall be the one in which we went to sleep
no matter what the colour of the skies
we live to understand the great mistake
to learn about just what we get to keep
and what to make of the long stream of lies