so now we measure trust by line of sight
as all depart in wonder at the rain
not knowing what the new day might contain
but happy that they've made it past the night
just one more time in this uncertain light
no one is guaranteed surcease of pain
but all are pleased and they will not complain
out of sheer gladness at escape from blight
we are not clear just what is the true rule
with which to govern those who always tell
the human story from the underside
since they have learnt it in a horrid school
where life comes down to touch and taste and smell
and there's no room for any thought of pride

who knows the journeys taken by the just
over the saddened earth to find true light
and not be blinded by the sudden sight
of the fair city rising from the dust
when once is passed the desert of distrust
and all have gone through the last sleepless night
cold lacking comfort knowing that the right
answer was coming that is human trust
each is ambassador to the new realm
where equal rulers crudely give reply
to those who cannot truly understand
the forces that will subtly overwhelm
the ragged armies of the ancient lie
and so bring justice to the angry land

the job before us is to chop the hog
into constituent parts and serve the meat
to all the hungry cut up into neat
easily cooked servings none for the dog
but plenty to be seared upon the log
given a thorough and sufficient heat
and then served up for all the poor to eat
spreading good warmth throughout the cold and fog
so much is duty and the common task
of ordinary service and the name
we give is cruel but the purpose just
to do the action that good heart may ask
of any decent players of the game
who know the meanings of both light and trust

call me a wimp and you will be a wreck
you stupid lad who tells tales out of school
just say the word i'll break your ******* neck

you seemed to think that nobody would check
the things you said that everything was cool
call me a wimp and you will be a wreck

you'll be destroyed naught left no single speck
and all they'll note is you were one more tool
just say the word i'll break your ******* neck

don't think i won't don't think i give a heck
for who you are or all the lies you drool
call me a wimp and you will be a wreck

so now you're silent now you hit the deck
full up with fear you've figured out the rule
just say the word i'll break your ******* neck

you have to understand that not a fleck
of pity will you get since you're the fool
call me a wimp and you will be a wreck
just say the word i'll break your ******* neck

the rain is over and sad clouds have passed
beyond the mountain to the hidden sea
where all our stillness has its time to be
acknowledged understood measured at last
but we the analysts are yet aghast
at all the pain of those who did not flee
the ultimate temptation that we see
in the hard present that is never past
obey the rules and that way you get by
the lesson taught almost from time of birth
is not sufficient to persuade the wise
they must ignore the message in each eye
the ruddy signal that comes down to earth
and dissipates the impact of old lies

all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
we've hit the boundary of human reach
out here in the republic of the dead

there's no necessity to get ahead
once we have heard the words of the last speech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

for this we struggled long to earn our bread
and bowed low as the vile old friars preach
out here in the republic of the dead

where are are equal in the weight of lead
but none will listen as the poor beseech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

at every sound that penetrates the head
while silent men walk up and down the beach
out here in the republic of the dead

where none dare speak and all the good are fled
and what we learnt no one could ever teach
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
out here in the republic of the dead

we cannot grasp the current situation
our hands are not quite equal to the task
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

all sense has gone from leaders of the nation
while generals have all dived into flask
we cannot grasp the current situation

but know that it's no cause for celebration
as we have reached the bottom of the cask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

we tried to impose rules of segregation
but found that there were things we could not ask
we cannot grasp the current situation

the masses do not give us admiration
while idle rulers on far beaches bask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

we find there is no true accommodation
they've seen the monster face behind the mask
we cannot grasp the current situation
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

there is no hope beyond the upper bound
of normal understanding where all mirth
fades into nonsense decent folk of worth
demand some movement onto higher ground
and are not angered at the empty sound
of foolish entities announcing birth
into a world of vacancy and dearth
of absence both astounding and profound
so when we choose against the very grain
of normal love and standardizing time
there is a point when each must hold the line
reject all silly choices and the stain
that comes when every turn must lead to crime
instead look up and note the noble sign

the ones who guide have not seen all the map
but are so confident in their deep sense
of this old world that their most sharp intense
demand does not presage some sort of trap
and yet we fall the pain comes in a slap
we have been fooled there's no means of pretense
the shock is sudden and the hurt immense
and it will take a whole life to unwrap
the meaning that is hidden in the deep
caverns of time in which we now must hide
both pain and fortune still there is a while
between the losses and the hope we keep
where salves exist for both respect and pride
and in that space the memory of a smile

in the beginning the true word was fear
of both the sun and the restraining night
of lack of motion and of urgent flight
the rule was terror on earth and in air
so all would tremble and not one would dare
give voice to fervour  truth is not so light
upon our shoulders nor is human might
so sorely lacking that all must despair
when we are banded there's an end to shock
while sorrow must retreat before clear hearts
and terrors be forgotten once again
when we reject the foolish as they mock
our hard-won knowledge and our certain arts
of patience that beat wisdom out of pain

each stalks the other on the bitter edge
of hill and forest where the winter sun
sheds little warmth but hope enough to run
into dark trees just where the young birds fledge
right past the glades where the spring lovers pledge
up to the hills now when the hunt is done
the rest will know just what reward is won
and what has died upon the mountain ledge
there is a truth beyond all human gain
that we extract from every sacrifice
without regard to what each must endure
just to achieve it both the thrill and pain
that are the fullest payment of the price
and for the which there is no certain cure

in the beginning words are what we make
to fill the spaces that fall in between
the known and human and the dark unseen
void that is home to dragon and to snake
that place of horror where the old gods wake
to force us all to say just what we mean
or else keep silence in that last unclean
home of our hopes there's no room for mistake
what we have found is that the ends are true
but all the roads that take us up deny
the honest vista that could salve the soul
permit clean breath or show one perfect clue
enough for even you to crush the lie
and so arrive at the long-wanted goal

the garden’s keeper is the one who knows
the time of fruiting and the ways of light
the meanings of the lily and the rose

to all who pause to watch as each plant grows
in its true place as firm hands set it right
the garden's keeper is the one who knows

when to stay calm and just when to disclose
the secret word that guards from every blight
the meanings of the lily and the rose

that in their beds do far more than repose
for the pure delectation of our sight
the garden's keeper is the one who knows

the proper manner of setting the rows
to mimic motion and to arrest flight
the meanings of the lily and the rose

are not in words still less in strikes and blows
against the passage that leads into night
the garden's keeper is the one who knows
the meanings of the lily and the rose

it is so easy to drift down to sleep
when the weak body lacking all defence
is at a moment when matters are tense
just eager to collapse into the deep
comfort of the dark hardest thoughts will keep
until winter sun makes some vague pretense
at warming earth but we have little sense
of whether honest hearts may make the leap
into the morning now we have some hope
that better judgment will be after night
and waking eyes will look on clearer choice
that at the least each will know how to cope
in what will be a keener form of light
and in a place where each will have a voice

so we are clear that in the winter sun
beneath the cloudless sky when all is cold
though all is bright our hearts are not consoled
by any knowledge the good times are done
while an uncertain epoch has begun
when the best folk are not doomed to be old
when crab his kingdom has now been foretold
so that the countdown clock is on its run
we seldom grieve the brightness of the day
until we see the stars in the night sky
and then declare the sunlight was too brief
for all we had to do or had to say
yet know the while that our words are a lie
to cover up a monumental grief

when eyes look up there is no blue to spy
but clouds of blemished dark and ***** grey
no sign of laughing sun of yesterday
the joyful world of summer seems a lie
told by sad fools each eager to deny
the horrid truth that beauties never stay
while we're the victims in this tragic play
who quail and shiver under lowering sky
still there's an answer as the night returns
and deeper darkness holds us closer in
we're not yet trapped by walls nor iron bars
the cold is met by all the force that burns
from hopeful hearts that still ache to begin
and wisdom that will reach up to the stars

each word is chosen that the whole may sing
in clearest harmony with measure fair
so that past winter we may see new spring

we early learn the value that we'll bring
to the fresh task our hopes are more than air
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

of coming magics and the truths that cling
to every heart in times of hard despair
so that past winter we may see new spring

throw out green shoots and let new branches swing
on the young trees light will once more be clear
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

in tones that reach the bird on highest wing
of better life and times in good repair
so that past winter we may see new spring

and spirits lightened all our hearts shall ring
with jubilation at relief of care
each word is chosen that the whole may sing
so that past winter we may see new spring

across the gully is another place
a different world with silver roughbarked trees
where stubborn beasts resist you on their knees
while walls and fences leave a proper trace
for those bewildered nature shows her face
in complicated motions that each sees
in the raw colours and the harsh decrees
that come upon us with the morning's grace
so this is recollection of the sight
from high above broad river as the grey
of false dawn marks the ending of the night
but here and now the moment cannot stay
we've paid hard cash for all that we have lost
and got no credit for the hills we've crossed

if knowledge is the end that each must seek
through all the tangled forest of the text
it is no wonder that we are so vexed
on the occasion of a sharp critique
delivered in plain words only the meek
affect to listen though they are perplexed
since they have no real sense of what comes next
and no desire to let their hurt minds speak
while up above the hunter is alert
to every nuance of the changing breeze
eager to know what comes in scent or sight
since that one thing may help or may yet hurt
but either way must fall before it flees
and be dragged out into the open light

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

no resolution ever fell so flat
as this decree though most sincerely meant
to bring all to their senses and repent
their every crime laid out upon the mat
as subjects proper for our daily chat
those matters upon which no true consent
has been achieved and on which we were lent
not enough time and oh well that’s that
when we have signaled that the end is come
to all deception we receive no prize
but only grievances a mighty store
since at the last we find that no one’s dumb
who comes beneath the censure of our eyes
but each believes they truly know the score

we sit here caught twixt history and text
interpreters of one more well-told tale
another weight that's added to the scale
of knowledge what wisdom comes unvexed
by normal suffering in the context
of work and study long before we ail
or fade into the dark with one last wail
that's the hard question leaving us perplexed
the act political we cannot doubt
must be for us the central urgent norm
for making easier the chance that curled
within the force that bids each one to shout
the truth and nature of the rising form
is the bright hope of an emergent world

now say good riddance to the year gone by
at one more fading of the foolish light
with full rejoicing that you did not die

tomorrow sun will rise on the same sky
and yours will be the task to get things right
now say good riddance to the year gone by

do not dwell long on how it seemed to fly
right past your thought and your diminished might
with full rejoicing that you did not die

get on your feet and led the hard words lie
just keep in mind that things could be less bright
now say good riddance to the year gone by

and get on with the stuff you can't deny
the tasks the pile up and the work not slight
with full rejoicing that you did not die

in dreamless sleep where all thought had run dry
you live for now don't rush the longest night
now say good riddance to the year gone by
with full rejoicing that you did not die

on knutsford boulevard the doctor bird
sips nectar from the blossoms in the noise
of passing traffic and the tall absurd
motions of people yet the creature's poise
is magical unaltered by the place
or human action honest of its kind
but still as brutal does not steal its grace
restoring beauty in a time that's blind
to this reality there's one more cast
that memory had woken an older tale
of pain and loss from a forgotten past
where all the goods must come at end to fail
yet truth will flutter on a humming wing
asking the heart in spite of all to sing

so much to do but go lie in the sun
and watch the clouds observe each changing shape
while looking upward with your mouth agape
allow the world to go by on the run
there are so many tasks that must be done
but not today there's time for one escape
from sordid duty take some rest and drape
your body on the bench just have some fun
soon you'll encounter the familiar task
hear the old words and even older lies
plunge back into the service of the known
to answer all the questions that they ask
hope to awaken light behind fresh eyes
and heal the causes of the longest groan

this is the day when we may bless the sun
no cloud can daunt us once we're through the night
for on this morning all our good is won

the long dark course of horror has been run
so now we have true clarity of sight
this is the day when we may bless the sun

not as our whip for that time is now done
but as an honest beneficent light
for on this morning all our good is won

we must make real the tales that once we spun
around the fire to keep our spirits bright
this is the day when we may bless the sun

for now there is no fear of lance or gun
since we may dance in our masters' despite
for on this morning all our good is won

service to past and future we won't shun
nor ever drop from memory the long fight
this is the day when we may bless the sun
for on this morning all our good is won

the deepest silence comes right after rain
just before nightfall when the milky light
seems full of portents while your straining sight
catches some glimpse of homing bird seen plain
at the right moment when the skies attain
that perfect colour fading fast from bright
just north of where begins the rule of night
to make us sigh now that is what we gain
here in the kingdom where no fools may rule
there is contentment earned at a high cost
by those of us who know not what we pay
nor understand the lessons of this school
until we find the gifts we thought long lost
and on a sudden learn we're on the way

our choices leave us little room to spare
as day and night in sequence go by fast
no decent case of dignity to wear

and vision that suggests more cause to fear
in the cold present than in the dim past
our choices leave us little room to spare

for reprehension at the sullen year
that it has been the truth is all miscast
no decent case of dignity to wear

we're  all frustrated all thrown in despair
all fearful we will hear the final blast
our choices leave us little room to spare

for any of the goods that we should bear
since our great goal will never be surpassed
no decent case of dignity to wear

when we confront the enemy or dare
the final gate that victory's the last
our choices leave us little room to spare
no decent case of dignity to wear

there is some magic in the changing sound
of music in the modulated touch
over the distance we have gained so much
crossing great waters at a single bound
while all the pains of the old hurt were drowned
and honour met  just one step past the clutch
of oldest terrors we learn truth is such
a mighty gift yet one we may expound
our hope for progress turns right back to shame
when out of darkness we find naught but force
to hold us back and keep us from our right
when what is needed is but one bright flame
to serve as guide to set us back on course
reminding hearts that not all is in night

where there's no echo from the outer range
of what was said before we turned for home
about the meanings both of choice and change
and what it means when we begin to roam
beyond the bounds of our accepted world
to those domains now hidden in the dark
where our free banners may at last unfurled
be flown above our heads as the great mark
of where we stand and what we mean to hold
upon the heights the point of what we do
when we have moved from warmth into the cold
and made our old place into something new
the truth of this is said without alarm
but your reply is what must give it charm

no matter what there's no reason to shout
with joy or anger since the rules are neat
and clear not heavy in this summer heat
we have no reason now for fear or doubt
just worry at the thought of coming drought
and utter silence in the noontime street
while on the air so many voices bleat
but none can tell us what it is about
upon the ground a shadow and a sign
of what the times have shown and what they mean
to those who read the signals straight and plain
yet we are waiting since the shades align
to form a boundary just past the seen
where those inside may sigh for coming rain

there is no magic that can outpace wit
nor any spell to outdo normal pluck
still in the end we all are in the ****

you might expect things would ease up a bit
but what you find is that your feet are stuck
there is no magic that can outpace wit

but not a single line of yours will hit
just where you want so you are out of luck
still in the end we all are in the ****

not one of us is ever quite legit
as all our best hopes end up in the muck
there is no magic that can outpace wit

we get a win our thoughts begin to flit
towards good chance if things don't go amuck
still in the end we all are in the ****

no matter what we do despite our grit
the laws of nature just don't give a ****
there is no magic that can outpace wit
still in the end we all are in the ****

no echo here just quiet and the bright
lamp of midday that flattens all below
with gentle touch that equals massive blow
and makes us all long for the cool of night
there's not a bird  today seeking the height
the strongest beast is hiding from the glow
this day at least we wish to see the snow
soften the edges of this harshest sight
mind cannot waken to the meanest task
nor is there thought of music for the charge
when distance adds so much to every fear
it magnifies the words that each must ask
making the burdens that were small so large
but yet each basket when we look holds air

brash thunder in the dark is low and deep
it bids us rest and dream of milky light
of other places where with fresher sight
the follies of the seasons slower creep
may well be judged by those who always keep
a weather eye for things to come out right
as safe from mortal horror that's the plight
of one who knows just what hides down in sleep
there's better clarity in the grey dawn
a different heat another sort of life
to be confronted choices to be met
one fearful terrapin seen on the lawn
draws in its head for fear of hurt or strife
but then goes on with no thought or regret

we know each mountain has to have a name
to fix in place what's true to foot and eye
allow for thought lest history go by
announcing that our hearts and tongues were lame
and silent that's the nature of this game
we label both the rock and butterfly
put signs in mobile water and still sky
so that the world entire is ours to frame
some other choice we might have to behold
a universe and let it go its way
without harsh imprint of the human touch
still we think ourselves noble brave and bold
eager to go forth and extend our sway
not caring in the  end we do too much

your choices are not made out of true hope
that honour will be gained beyond despair
in this long war you're not that kind of dope
to think that outcomes must turn out quite fair
the action that you take is most precise
and never needs return for second slice
besides you know to go against the grain
would give us all some reason to complain
instead you give us all an even hand
you make things honest open just and plain
our wishes start and finish with our land

your kindness teaches us that we must cope
when we had thought the case was past repair
taking our feet up the long dismal *****
unto the place where the long view is clear
where vision serves in place of good advice
and we may learn just what is the true price
that we have paid for knowledge not arcane
given the sorrows of a long campaign
while you provide us with words soft and bland
and music of a gentle plaintive strain
our wishes start and finish with our land

your words inform that we are out of rope
and at cliff's edge looking out on the air
but you're not giving us lies or soft-soap
and we have had the full time to prepare
the options are no tossing of the dice
and all our preparations will suffice
you have not sent us out into the rain
uncovered nor need we ever explain
just why we have to make our final stand
for simple good that's not measured in gain
our wishes start and finish with our land

prince you announce our good you will attain
and all our enemies you shall constrain
such words are wondrous and such hopes are grand
but princes always were the people's bane
our wishes start and finish with our land

so much is said by those who have to speak
in doubled phrases and in words which bite
so deeply that our hearts lose their delight
and all is darkness life becomes so bleak
all hope is lost in getting what we seek
and every choice leads only into blight
this sort of magic turns high noon to night
leaving us all dispirited and weak
what's absent here is just the honest word
uttered by decent souls who know that kind
regard goes further than law's formal writ
but what we have is odourific ****
showing its presence even to the blind
making it clear that all are in the ****

there's reason for our silence at your boast
of honours gained but we would never mock
the complex manner in which you take stock
of those who might give unto you the most
value for effort there's certainly no ghost
of a chance that our sharpest words would  rock
your placid mind nor ever serve to shock
your foolish heart that is why you are toast
our hopes are otherwise for you to learn
new meanings in the light and make it plain
that you have understood the open word
of those who do far more than simply yearn
for what has been who go far past their pain
into the laughing world of the absurd

our voices echo silence is the crime
we need the warm assurance of sweet sound
for all our urgency fears empty time

so much is caught between the fall and climb
but haste is needed to bring things around
our voices echo silence is the crime

for which we will be punished now the chime
of teachers' bell is something most profound
for all our urgency fears empty time

which must be filled with order the sublime
decree of trust in which we seek for ground
our voices echo silence is the crime

and we're so guilty yet we have to prime
the rule of virtues so they might abound
for all our urgency fears empty time

while hope for magic is expressed in rhyme
which we desire to ring and to resound
our voices echo silence is the crime
for all our urgency fears empty time

mark this for turn of hope or choice or chance
that when we rise our hearts to joy are turned
instead of knowing that our work had earned
such tiny wages but the real advance
we did not realize nor yet enhance
those ways in which the greater fires burned
but did not eat up all of those who yearned
to set their feet free in the happy dance
now we have given you our honest word
and you fall silent it is not enough
that you do nothing to prevent our walk
along the forest path where golden bird
is seen at sunset matters not so tough
must in the end be subjects of your talk

we can't escape the honest final fact
of what we are but knowledge of the when
evades our thought for women and for men
the whole affair requires a lot of tact
while ancient legions trooper and cataphract
do battle to control both hill and fen
while we are in the grip of thought again
having no choice but fearing still to act
all voyages must come at last to port
or end at the sea-bottom ever lost
those are the options and we cannot choose
the fate that we are given time is short
as we find out we have to pay the cost
of all delaying and we always lose

all of our memories slip out through the net
fearsome grandmothers will not let us hide
the truth is bound up tightly with regret

when pain of living has us most upset
then we hear loudest voices that deride
all of  our memories slip out through the net

leaving behind just the fury and fret
the shouts of anger and the words that chide
the truth is bound up tightly with regret

no matter what the lie or epithet
effects of injury won't be denied
all of our memories slip out through the net

so we are trapped knowing we cannot let
our hearts be opened to the other side
the truth is bound up tightly with regret

for all we knew still the true course was set
from the beginning by our manic pride
all of our memories slip out through the net
the truth is bound up tightly with regret

we do not get the choice to grow or fade
since each of us is placed just where we ought
to find the truth of all the things we're taught
which is much more that what life must abrade
with its rough edges we are ever frayed
broken and blinded knowing that we fought
both hard and well but losing were caught
in the old trap and sent back to the shade
so much to tell about where we were cast
the clawing upwards that's another fight
though none will listen to the loser's tale
nor should they we recall the faded past
while today's children look towards the light
and have no patience with the ones who fail

this is the truth that no one need be told
we do not go the same way that we came
the downhill path is not the very same
as the short tunnel out of the long cold
but journey's one for coward and for bold
with equal vision for the wild and tame
and one good reason that we guard the flame
from foolish youth until we are too old
the crooked timber frames a crooked world
still we would have no other and the best
is what we make since there is none above
to judge or burden so with flag unfurled
we must go forward to confront the test
our only certainty before is love