so what disrupts requires that we select
with all due art the silver from the dross
taking no notice of what's on the boss
nor even caring truth must have effect
while each must go as their own hearts direct
with grant of knowledge given in the gloss
by those who count the plus side as a loss
for what we had is gone naught will connect
into the afternoon the buzzards plunge
upon the corpse of wisdom is their feast
where all is ended save the scent of dung
here is a sight that nothing could expunge
when hope and virtue have together ceased
and only curses rise from every tongue

you make your vision plain in every word
the pulse of nature moving in full heat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred
the trip is over none will come to greet
you make your vision plain in every word

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred
but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

proclaiming season's changes have recurred
but time is motion every year more fleet
you make your vision plain in every word

including those that we have not yet heard
break out of silence still our peace is sweet
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

to wake the morning and to cry absurd
notes of redemption for each empty street
you make your vision plain in every word
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

what we saw was the mountain not the road
and so mistook the task and were dismayed
but still plugged onward though we were afraid
each of us frightened bearing a great load
of doubt and sorrow though it might explode
the peak above us could only persuade
our simple hearts that we were half decayed
yet we  walked on with hope our one sharp goad
so what we did was make it the whole way
not without pause and not without much pain
since stubborn hearts refused all other choice
to look from summit at a brighter day
with backs all straightened once relieved of strain
and spirits freed to sing and to rejoice

the wind traps each in their own tiny room
blasts out the silence and makes all take stock
for in the morning we face one last doom

it was but yesterday we saw the bloom
pallid yet vibrant not a thing to mock
the wind traps each in their own tiny room

on this dark day when the only perfume
is bitter scent of ashes our knees lock
for in the morning we face one last doom

with no sun rising to relieve the gloom
nor to bring warmth to the hard barren rock
the wind traps each in their own tiny room

for hearts to harden and for minds to fume
while each lost traveller waits on the knock
for in the morning we face one last doom

the golden cradle will serve for a tomb
to learn that fact will not come as a shock
the wind traps each in their own tiny room
for in the morning we face one last doom

vision persists in memory of the eye
where moving image still seems full and bright
though many hopes have faded into night
and all is strange now under a new sky
and other stars still hearts demand to fly
into the realms of true and honest light
where none will question when we reach the height
nor will each word be stifled by the lie
we ask the dragon for one drop of blood
to change the order of things now well known
into fresh truths and we restring the lyre
to have our songs resound above the mud
into that air where one bird soars alone
reaching towards the source of light and fire

we find that choices now have all turned hard
but may not leave this hot and ****** field
there's no way forward and return is barred

all faces that were fresh are old and marred
but minds are focused and all hearts are steeled
we find that choices now have all turned hard

yet cannot give the past our fond regard
for what was warm and free is now congealed
there's no way forward and return is barred

to those who are obliged to stand on guard
awaiting a strong word to be revealed
we find that choices now have all turned hard

our praises won't be sung by any bard
at least our fate will not be long concealed
there's no way forward and return is barred

no option then but play the final card
take up our stand and show we will not yield
we find that choices now have all turned hard
there's no way forward and return is barred

no choice but midnight left and this is hard
to take when day was joyous and so kind
that we were filled with blessings of good mind
but now few stars and every way is barred
vision is blurred and all the ground is charred
by wildest fire we have been left behind
by some harsh fate in this land of the blind
where all things good have been cut up and marred
there must be wisdom left for each to trace
the proper path to decent human sight
where everyone is worthy of their face
and every action leads each to the right
this is the hope to which we all must hold
that none can purchase though it lead to gold