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

truth comes in the gaze of eye and ear
and is released in ways that we find best
in simple language nothing can be expressed
but in a form and fashion that is dear
to ordinary hearts now we adhere
in principle and practice to the test
of frailty in all that is confessed
by guardians who will not succumb to fear
duty requires action as well as speech
from those told off to watch the border wall
for signs of trouble coming with the spring
but courage makes us all extend our reach
makes us imagine ourselves ten feet tall
and gives our hearts and voices cause to sing

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

some mention made then must the silence fall
upon the envies that have held us late
within the barrier lacking all freight
of decency or commerce but the tall
protectors of our honour lightly call
on such devotion as the wise relate
in their long histories and we do not state
a better truth the pain belongs to all
so what is earned after the sacrifice
no one regards as worthy of our toil
since it has fallen from no awesome height
but rather we are told that the full price
is not a matter for complaint or broil
but can be settled in a day and night

we strain to hear the music of new light
within each heart to tell the truth of strain
as we rebuild the castle once again
on land of hope with chances maybe  slight
indifferent between horror and delight
in a swift race to beat the winter rain
and certain that the walls won't keep out pain
but may succeed at shelter from the night
our hope is simple out there in the cold
no one survives so if we can defend
against the dark some little may endure
to do all this we must stay sharp and bold
from the harsh start right to the ****** end
for the one golden gift we can secure

what choices for the poor or for the dead
in myth or legend amount to the same
decline of knowledge ending of the game
feasting on shadows and the ghost of bread
stale waters and the odours of the head
nought to the matter there is no more shame
where we have gone only the ***** flame
of penny passions when the nights are red
now dreadful options face us on each side
when we must turn toward the fallen night
with little hope that anything we say
could make a difference it's a thorny ride
where we'll be going and the sort of plight
we find ourselves in is not healed by day

the southern aspect of a season's tale
when clouds have parted and the days advance
with kinder sunlight into springs expanse
just at the point where hearts might seek to fail
is our new vantage right here we inhale
both air and sound the enemies of chance
encourage hearts to feel the hope of dance
and with a new enlightenment to sail
good airs inspire the lungs and cause the feet
to find their rhythm with the season’s change
in a new blend that came from over sea
a deeper wiser measure of the street
bringing homeward what was once so strange
to make us in the end a bit more free

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

our world turns all experience into test
just so we're measured each and every day
each purpose is the same to be the best

the angry and the ones who acquiesced
in the strict rules by which we willed to play
our world turns all experience into test

they said to us and we thought it a jest
until the last good choices went away
each purpose is the same to be the best

at this long game and not to be depressed
is what the teacher said and we were grey
our world turns all experience into test

with each achievement losing all its zest
once skill has turned it into just more play
each purpose is the same to be the best

so that is all the worth we may attest
while each of us has some good word to say
our world turns all experience into test
each purpose is the same to be the best

so much is lost inside the space of dark
where what we see and hear is felt so hard
that when we tear or find the door is barred
to every vision and without a mark
we turn to go we hasten to embark
on one more journey while you stand on guard
with eyes close watching on the final yard
as all our choices now have come down stark
no names are mentioned in the frozen place
where all are sorted for the last short trip
out to oblivion yet there's a chance
that these sad agents of the human race
may for a moment get themselves a grip
so joining in the finest kind of dance

your chances come and go like a spring breeze
above the tulips maples still are bare
but all the city seems to be aware
that something's brewing in the mysteries
nature may hide some trick in her chemise
that the best gardener would not think she'd dare
and then send signals out in simplest clear
when we most think to sit and take our ease
on edge of spring we wait as on each night
the stars reveal another sort of chance
and we are given leave to ask for rest
not knowing yet what we may get as right
nor what our steps are in the coming dance
but hoping that each change is for the best

we fall so far that the first sign of light
awakens us to shaking and to pain
not ready but we face it all again
there was no comfort in the arms of night
we got it wrong so gelid is our plight
yet these are things that no one need explain
each is quite normal not a one's arcane
for suffering's a universal rite
what each must do is take up the hard load
of human courage as if it were new
and clasp it tightly without much regret
accept that this is one rough stony road
that comes with  sorrow and no good long view
and all is paid with labour and cold sweat

all of our answers turn out to be true
though journeys start and end in pouring rain
there comes a time to pause and take the view

our knowledge is constrained by what is new
not by the old nor yet by thoughts of gain
all of our answers turn out to be true

since what we've done must constitute a coup
in favour of the honest and the plain
there comes a time to pause and take the view

of all the folk whose minds may yet construe
the simple vision that when we entrain
all of our answers turn out to be true

both to our hearts and to those who are due
the seats of honour and the high domain
there comes a time to pause and take the view

when all is clear and the noon sky full blue
we are redeemed by virtue of our pain
all of our answers turn out to be true
there comes a time to pause and take the view

yesterday's snow is ***** now and dark
we look for ice and worry about shade
as the sun rises and the long parade
of normal time resumes along the stark
roads and each newly-woken seems to mark
a world made gritty when light must abrade
both faith and fear the horror we have made
there's nothing but the chance of a new spark
from a great distance in another zone
there's news more bitter than the fleeting cold
and nothing that can make it feel more light
since each plain word will cut right to the bone
yet do no more than let us know what's told
which is that all will come to end in night

fallen from glory the world now turns drab
so easily a single dullish cloud
before the sun and all brightness is cowed
without resistance we can never grab
the moment back it's cast upon the slab
and we are from all justice disendowed
who were not long ago happy and proud
but now have come to the realm of the crab
the world is many things other than fair
since what we have we always have to earn
on terms that change each day and are not right
when most we want the best of things to dare
but never mind all that is good must burn
and from the fire we gain a better light

dull red and heavy is the morning sky
the storm is coming  so we are afraid
while time is wasting yet to make the grade

the air's unmoving birds refuse to fly
there is no hope that the great storm's delayed
dull red and heavy is the morning sky

no better world is showing to the eye
what's been released we hope will not degrade
beneath the coming rain yet we're dismayed
dull red and heavy is the morning sky

the normal vision of the human way
is what we bring at first into each mind
in hope that when we are by fate confined
in the beige cubes of ordinary day
no creeping horrors will come out to prey
on thoughts that must to wider worlds be blind
for fear of just exactly what we'd find
if honest brain was let come out to play
but there are dragons just beyond the wall
the child inside will know though adults fail
so often just to open up their eyes
or let their ears adjust to hear the call
of beings greater than the normal scale
moving their wings across the winter skies

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

none of it matters but it must be said
while we have breath to speak and time to cry
since in the end we can't give in to dread

choice is not easy once we're out of bed
facing the truth and under every eye
none of it matters but it must be said

not just to you but to the ones who sped
away so fast who feared the cloudy sky
since in the end we can't give in to dread

we wait the storm knowing what lies ahead
is no wise worse that what has now gone by
none of it matters but it must be said

in plainest words and set down in black lead
for all to see and for none to deny
since in the end we can't give in to dread

and none can take the duty in our stead
nor be in place when our turn comes to die
none of it matters but it must be said
since in the end we can't give in to dread

we are not measured rightly by good chance
our hopes are limitless but not our skin
there are no victors ever at this dance

they told us this was the time to advance
that all the old faults had been cast in bin
we are not measured rightly by good chance

our wounds will never let us jump or prance
and when we are related we're not kin
there are no victors ever at this dance

since it's a game whose players can enhance
their virtues best by adding to the din
we are not measured rightly by good chance

nor yet permitted to take up a stance
above the fray our only hope is sin
there are no victors ever at this dance

but there are still fools who think it romance
and who believe that there's a prize to win
we are not measured rightly by good chance
there are no victors ever at this dance

where no salvation comes from a dead lord
we're cast adrift and there's no guiding star
no symbol serves to act as luminar
and we have taken a strange one aboard
as sign and seal in these realms unexplored
of all our dangers yet we're not so far
beyond the norms of everyday devoir
but have paid more than mortals can afford
we asked for honesty and got hard stone
straight in the face nothing could be so plain
but to push onward is the single choice
that folk of honour have bred in the bone
regardless of the threat of lash and chain
or whether the old villains will rejoice

no echo now but in the dull grey light
see passing birds that pause and watch us feed
our satiated faces lacking need
or understanding in their urgent flight
of what exactly is the human plight
or when our hunger turns into stark greed
the passerine just seeks an errant seed
and a safe place where it can spend the night
the human does not show the passing bird
this truth of life that everything's the same
since all of us make up a single cast
we're subject each of us to one hard word
as players in the sole eternal game
each doomed to pass in time into the past

in the deep silence when the heavy snow
had closed the ways and frozen every road
each of us certain that no river flowed
and turning inwards for the gentle glow
of  home and hope that love will soon bestow
on all of those who have found out the code
of normal joy there's no more human mode
for us to find nor for the heart to know
yet as the dark descends on the cold city
we're held together by another light
clearer and kinder than we might deserve
safe in a time we know for rough and gritty
and made secure by truth instead of might
we find the gold around the final curve

so all we hear today is cannons’ boom
their echo forms our terrible surround
for this whole century the world’s a tomb

it isn’t that we just ran out of room
for good intentions our shots will redound
so all we hear today is cannons’ boom

from shore to shore and the explosives’ bloom
accompanied by their pervading sound
for this whole century the world’s a tomb

though skies are sunny we are cast in gloom
parents and children thrown into the mound
so all we hear today is cannons’ boom

perhaps in time some scholar will exhume
the reason why we all now lie in ground
for this whole century the world’s a tomb

and every hope has fallen down to doom
while goodness trust and honesty are bound
so all we hear today is cannons’ boom
for this whole century the world’s a tomb

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

some answers teach us that we have to ask
in simple words but make the complex set
of terminologies our broadest net
the tool that's aptest for this ample task
of abyssal exploring those who bask
on  the warm hills they who will never get
how hard the job is whose feet are not wet
they'll not discern the world behind the mask
but on some morning when the mists depart
those who go furthest out may well discern
in the sharp moment of deepest desire
the one thing missing to complete each heart
at the right moment when the waters burn
with the clear light of universal fire

all that we know is measured in degrees
of silence or of truth that we declare
not loudly but most firmly into air
that has been purified by these dark trees
standing impassive in the midday breeze
while we afflicted by most reasoned fear
are not so hopeful that we’ll choose to dare
go through the woods to face the heat or freeze
no options are so good are purest chance
but all our wishes end up just as vain
as when we started so we must endure
let other figures enter in the dance
hope for the sun but buck up under rain
and face each ill uncertain of the cure

where no man argues and no woman fights
for good or evil we have reached an end
of human battles and the stars portend
no better indications as the nights
close in we note their distant blinking lights
as symbols we might faintly comprehend
when we are whole but what the worlds intend
is not a matter that we have to rights
the argument of workers in the day
or farmers when the wind upsets the trees
is much the same as when we all were young
to bring about the work without delay
ignore the rain and not yield to the breeze
since a strong back outdoes a silver tongue

we make the nation out of heart and mind
but give allegiance only when we're paid
which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

for all that we have been to truth inclined
its consequences make us all afraid
we make the nation out of heart and mind

yet cannot doubt that we’ve still been consigned
to the old trap we're in the same old trade
which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

and thus we know already what we'll find
once we unravel all the plots we'd laid
we make the nation out of heart and mind

expecting history will be more kind
granting some measure of good ease and aid
which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

since no such hope has ever been designed
instead we'll have to do with what we've made
we make the nation out of heart and mind
which means this kingdom's truly  of the blind

so much is meant but carried in each head
is other freight the which no one could lift
without some aid to take us cross the rift
that separates our bodies that's the dread
that strikes all of a sudden with a red
intensity that's hot as well as swift
but gives way fortunately to your gift
and the great sweetness of all that you've said
time's not enough for all the forms of play
nor for the music that love can require
of us but life goes by at such a pace
clip that years compress into just one day
while we are still warmed by the same fire
and held together in the same embrace

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

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 evidence the world is bent in shape
a bluish globe with wooly white of cloud
the mountains form a contrast sharp and proud
against the sea we note the golden cape
while in the sky dark birds seem to escape
the planetary force while winds are loud
above the foam and yet we are uncowed
though eyes are open and all mouths agape
there is a reason we have reached this place
and taken stock at the appropriate time
for our authority to be compelled
into new channels and a different space
with better thought and clearer paradigm
now that the party’s over and trial’s held

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

when after hard night’s sleep you wake to shock
of world everted by some horrid act
that frightens into childhood though the fact
is not so dangerous as to unlock
those charging monsters that good adults block
assuring you that though we've been attacked
the enemy will suffer the impact
and we will be as stalwart as the rock
the sounds of battle will not this day reach
our tender ears the voices urge stay calm
just go about your life and do your duty
yet they are silent those who ought to teach
the urgent lesson that there is no balm
to ease the pain and no way back to beauty

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

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

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

i wrote the words and sent them on their way
not knowing how each reader understood
just what was meant nor whether any good
would come from what was simple dance and play
of thought and vision now the options sway
between the meadow and the darkling wood
and we are trapped right where the choices could
not be more difficult on the worst day
what's said can be repaired but what is made
is fixed within the world once and for all
to be acknowledged  or to be denied
that is the problem puts us in the shade
leaves us exhausted makes us want to bawl
and in the end will take away our pride

from shadow into shadow there's no need
to measure honour nor to mete out pain
through the sad morning for each must abstain
from that fierce propaganda of the deed
which was by action of straight force decreed
since all the nature of this world's made plain
and we learn both the cure and the heart's bane
what makes us whole and what will make us bleed
truth does not give the agent much real choice
you get to act since there's nowhere to rest
this side of death that is the one sure fact
instead you have to give justice a voice
face the rough world and submit to the test
just hoping to get all the way intact

so many echoes in the rain
leave nothing of our vision clear
but when we breathe the morning air

the feeling's fresh the scent is plain
to all who notice yet we hear
so many echoes in the rain

that every ordinary brain
is forced into a deep despair
at oaths that we are forced to swear
so many echoes in the rain

we heard a clear message loud as a gun
roll from the speaker who stood above
bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

there’s what we have asked for much has been done
the structure is falling just one more shove
we heard a clear message loud as a gun

and we are not startled though it may stun
having already seen fist in the glove
bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

pleasant words told us of miles left to run
with hearts of a lion and souls of a dove
we heard a clear message loud as a gun

out of the vision the teller had spun
came more hope than any of us had thought of
bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

the story of all that was worth being won
the magic and beauty of our common love
we heard a clear message loud as a gun
bright as a sovereign in the setting sun

wisdom is but sharp experience read
against the peal of years and given weight
still by the time it matters we are dead

so all your chiding some good thought has bred
within each mind before the hour turns late
wisdom is but sharp experience read

in the cold pages of the tale of dread
as drear hours pass until we reach the gate
still by the time it matters we are dead

and all good judgment given up and fled
since it is past all moment for debate
wisdom is but sharp experience read

as text to the dark music in each head
that echoes in deep tones against the slate
still by the time it matters we are dead

therefore avoiding all those who have fled
into the perils of a different state
wisdom is but sharp experience read
still by the time it matters we are dead

life is best measured by the hopes we burn
through those dead yesterdays none could forget
times when the fattest were the most sharp set
which ended we wished would never return
still this is what each of us pays to learn
from that hard teacher whom we name regret
the many ways that life is overset
and those lost gifts for which we will long yearn
so let the drum beat none of us will leave
without a turn upon the judgment seat
so we gain wisdom from the hard result
although our purpose was not to deceive
we're forced unto it by the long defeat
which strips us of all reasons to exult

we're faced with everything but honest grief
hard lies are shouted in the open street
and pleasant words recited in retreat

by both the kind physician and the thief
until we think the harsh venom is sweet
we're faced with everything but honest grief

so we resile still there's no real relief
for either broken hearts or weary feet
since life itself turns out to be a cheat
we're faced with everything but honest grief

no matter what we say we do not feel
the pain of others right inside each heart
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

for one more challenge for the last appeal
which was presaged right at the very start
no matter what we say we do not feel

our hopes and urges have been brought to heel
and the last hero laid upon a cart
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

to see the message and to take our meal
in comfort all who come here will depart
no matter what we say we do not feel

we will start forward and then we will reel
back down in sign that we have lacked the art
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

for what is good the last hard spring of steel
yet still the while some fool will strain to ****
no matter what we say we do not feel
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

if there are ways to measure all the tale
in years of story how the shapes are made
without an edge of humour being frayed
by passing breeze or rough attacking gale
you'd say that we must in this wise assail
the aged creators of the human braid
for all the crimes of their despairing trade
before we mark their effort with a fail
no truths have been discovered by our kind
without an effort to disturb the soil
uproot the weeds and plant a better seed
so that the newer products of keen mind
emergent in the end from bitter toil
can match the urge exactly to the deed

no reason for your heart to get the joke
we took the road and followed every twist
found villages that  time seemed to have missed
and watched the sun come out from autumn's cloak
into a world we wanted to evoke
for younger selves but that could not exist
where light and warmth burnt off the silly mist
and foolish wishes turned into thin smoke
smile now at folly and give measured praise
for what must be and grant the purpose set
that we must give a lead to urgent youth
who wish to set the turning world ablaze
as we did once before we learnt regret
and found our tiny corner of the truth

at longest last we reach the furthest edge

where wisdom cannot tell us how to choose

between young follows and a few old clues

close to the end there on the final ledge

above deep seas which no one dares to dredge

is where we learn the game's to win or lose

in one short moment when we clip the fuse

open our eyes and honour our true pledge

worlds shape each heart but hearts must form the world

for each of us in turn as we repair

to our last castles on the final hill

dreaming in hope of sleeping dragons curled

in some deep cavern far from the bright air

awaiting the command of our deep will

these are the laws with which all must comply
within the bounds not just of this one state
but under all the norms of human freight
as though we were not only passing by
like winter birds up in the cloudless sky
each on its way towards a waiting mate
with certain knowledge of the coming date
true clarity of vision in each eye
so duty comes upon us and we weep
for all those moments when we could not stand
in proper place right by the open door
where ordinary watchers just might keep
a welcome jug of water close to hand
and for the hungry perhaps something more