what’s left unknown weighs down  until we bleat
in rage and fear then leave off being bold
for better nights and stories wiser told
as those with longer practice wait the fleet
leaving the late ones to patrol the street
in angry silence so while it is cold
as the dew rises and the night turns old
the urgent and the foolish still may meet
this is the game of rats that always prey
upon the leavings that once made for joy
cast away now beneath the starless sky
as every denizen flees from the day
in certainty that even truth’s a toy
and honour turns out just another lie

the words come clear by thought they're not unkind
and say those things that wisdom would intend
in careful thought there's nothing here to mend
so to say truth we're in no sort of bind
no trap no evil case has been defined
nor have we with fell beings to contend
our choice is clear the task is to defend
the facts about the kingdom of the blind
where anyone would go to find the pain
within the heart of he who built the fort
is not for me right now to speak or say
enough to note the hauteur and distain
for those who came up just a bit too short
or did not understand when it was day

we did not know all that the words have said
in the dead past and what was on the wall
vivid in sunlight is now past recall
but not all meanings dwell amongst the dead
waiting for better times and less cold dread
to illustrate the human rise and fall
of hearts that circulate and do not stall
but pain and narrowness stay in the head
that was a different and a better mind
possessed by those who sought to build our hope
in concrete forms and who not thinking stealth
in any way a virtue felt the kind
were more equipped for climbing the long *****
towards a place where all would share the wealth

a century ago the world began
in blood and pain the auguries were wild
so many things have changed in a short span

my father’s world the currents overran
there was no time for words or thoughts too mild
a century ago the world began

we have to choose which of the screens to scan
it is too easy to become beguiled
so many things have changed in a short span

and we are all entranced woman and man
by all the facts that overcome the child
a century ago the world began

two shots and then the faeces struck the fan
for all mankind none would be reconciled
so many things have changed in a short span

the light itself has been placed under ban
and all that once was purest been defiled
a century ago the world began
so many things have  changed in a short span

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

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

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

long toil will end when good folk all agree
on what is just and how the work divides
and on this morning we all wake up free

so many years that each lack harmony
we seemed only to wait for changing tides
long toil will end when good folk all agree

on how we fare and how we stand to see
the ones who move or that which still abides
and on this morning we all wake up free

the music plays with skill and constancy
while one who would have punished simply hides
long toil will end when good folk all agree

on codes of honour sitting by the sea
watch as the last bad soldier changes sides
and on this morning we all wake up free

so now we gather under an old tree
to give our promises and choose our guides
long toil will end when good folk all agree
and on this morning we all wake up free

those places that are marked on every map
we drew in childhood to ensure our play
had structure in the mind that they would stay
solidly longer than the infant pap
of other games would drift through every nap
shaping the dream out of imagined clay
to make a brightness greater than the day
when ordinary life was only crap
from word to vision the true path is clear
so that you take it with eyes truly cold
through the divisions of a world in strife
with all the forces that would shred and tear
your heart and spirit as you become old
reject them all and choose the better life

all that we know has been subject to loss
of definition and of common sense
so we make of the remnant a pretense
and aim to sneak our last hard words across
the barrier between plain truth and dross
but find that we are caught up on that fence
lacking a guide and with no good defense
our coins have come up wrong side on the toss
no messengers will reach the happy place
where children think that justice is at home
to  give report now that is no regret
for those who stand to win or lose in grace
or find what's hidden underneath the foam
the seat is ready and the board is set

now tell me that this moment is no lie
we mean to go one just as we began
to measure all the world within one eye

so that this magic will not make you cry
allow each of us to fulfill the plan
now tell me that this moment is no lie

since you have gained the trust and will not cry
for any reason there's a way to span
to measure all the world within one eye

we have been gifted with this will to try
for other countries where there is no ban
now tell me that this moment is no lie

that honour rises in the summer sky
with all the goodliness that we may scan
to measure all the world within one eye

in order that each heart may learn to fly
beyond the places where our feet first ran
now tell me that this moment is no lie
to measure all the world within one eye

there are some gains from adding years to life
then there are losses from the very start
that cannot be avoided by the art
or skill that teaches ease of horrid strife
although the world with pain and death is rife
we don't just throw the bodies on the cart
and pass on by each of us has some heart
yet still we know we must go under knife
no magic keeps us hidden from the fact
that life's a process with an ending point
and not some bird forever on the wing
this play must reach at last the closing act
the times must be put into proper joint
and winter come long after the bright spring

the name is wrong the memory still right
of the grey trees beside the drystone wall
fruiting in summer so lush in recall
and seen so clearly in approaching night
as we looked up to see the birds in flight
the setting sun that gorgeous red ball
as into the green sea it seemed to fall
made of it one stark blessing of a sight
we cannot know what goods may come to pass
on this hard journey up and down the hill
but dare not bid a single minute stay
yet what we see reflected in the glass
is not the force either of wit or will
but all the markings of the normal way

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire
burning a message across the dull sky
telling us all that fate may be a liar

although we are the ones who still aspire
to honour in a world where all seems dry
here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

a vision that combines beauty and ire
reminder that some final truth is nigh
telling us all that fate may be a liar

that in the end both pain and joy are higher
than we expect or might ask to supply
here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

a mark of fear but still it is not dire
there's more above than we know to espy
telling us all that fate may be a liar

that is the burden of the early crier
who warns that those who care will come to die
here is a dragon that breathes golden fire
telling us all that fate may be a liar

running into darkness and the grey wall
in the strange quicksand which is some dark trap
you have no choice you must cry out and fall

yet this is not the time for you to bawl
at life's injustice and go off the map
running into darkness and the grey wall

with none to hear as the hard sun stands tall
you have the strength to go another lap
you have no choice you must cry out and fall

but will get up though none may hear your call
since there is still a way out of the crap
running into darkness and the grey wall

even though light itself may seem to maul
your heart and no one ever gives a rap
you have no choice you must cry out and fall

struggle again to show you have the gall
to face down all the ravages of hap
running into darkness and the grey wall
you have no choice  you must cry out and fall

no echoes but the silence is so loud
that we are caught between the dark and pain
of interrupted morning once again
when rushing with all ants in the huge crowd
each is obliged to do what is allowed
take up the load and soak in the old stain
just hope that we are moving with the grain
and all the while refrain from being proud
those are the rules and they were clearly made
beyond the veil since they’re a simple law
meant to apply in every human course
until recall of all our deeds shall fail
then in good time we’ll offer up the flaw
leaving the payment to a lesser force

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

before we cut the cord there is some time
to know the places where all choice is plain
and there is neither complete loss or gain
nor any hiding underneath the grime
for anyone the world is in its prime
we find it easy to remove each stain
nor is it hard to to show or to explain
the value given to each song or chime
while each one waits to hear just how the day
will be reported by the wisest folk
we will not rush unseeing  to remark
upon the rules that bound all work or play
nor those we take to be some kind of joke
that leave  us gasping at return of dark

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

here on the boundary of truth and lie
where ordinary magics have their rule
underneath heaven permanently cool
no one escapes nor is allowed to cry
against the judgment of the steely sky
since every human is at last a fool
while failure is the final mark at school
the arrow that will find each weeping eye
all that we know amounts to waste of air
on these strange days when we desire to feel
the urgent courage of our better days
but what we get is new return of care
another revolution of the wheel
and nothing better coming through the haze

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

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

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

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

there are no answers but the simple fact
that we have asked will make some things more clear
even to those for whom the worlds appear
as cheap illusions or as the abstract
daubings of visions that might not attract
the subtler gaze here in this colder air
what we must ask is that the wise compare
the truths of things and then that they just act
not all who reach this place have learnt to look
at the right angles where they might discern
those matters not for ordinary sight
yet what we find in not so secret book
for those who have the time truly to learn
is that there is each day for all some light

to those who wait there is no better name
in the wide oceans for the coming wild
giving us hope when all we had was shame

our fathers left us heritage of blame
although their rule was temperate and mild
to those who wait there is no better name

except perhaps the trumpet cry of fame
though that by wise folk is sometimes reviled
giving us hope when all we had was shame

the thought of danger puts us in the frame
yet for our good we left the hearth exiled
to those who wait there is no better name

for hero but we find the story lame
and punish those we thought might just have smiled
giving us hope when all we had was shame

since now we learn the whole thing is a game
and the best player no more than a child
to those who wait there is no better name
giving us hope when all we had was shame

those who have measured the true depths of hate
are never guided by the maps we know
nor by the compass or the starry show
at height of darkness that is not their fate
on the long journey for they won’t debate
the terrors or the pains there is no blow
so hard it will detain them the great flow
of history inspires them not to wait
there’s a reminder that we learn the ways
when we are children and the early signs
of wisdom we dismiss as so much guff
yet we return when we’ve fulfilled the days
of hardest learning and worked in the mines
discovering at last we’re not so tough

emerging from the freighted dark no thought
but that the sky be clear and hands be filled
with all the needful that your warm hearts willed
when in good daylight the first words were caught
by eager listeners who had been taught
that not all prizes went to those best drilled
in the arcana of the freshly-killed
rather to ones who would account for naught
there is a victory that no one regrets
up in the hills when all the gifts are due
then hunters call and do not comprehend
the plainer meanings and the open sets
though when we have been silenced and review
our final forces we find there’s no end

when we are lost in rapture at the sight
of the spring flowers at last fully blown
we are then healed down to the very bone
of the last vestiges of winter's blight
so too when we have passed beyond the night
into another domain of the known
where once again we cease to be alone
we can be certain that the world is right
the simple magics are the ones most true
not to feel terror at the change of time
yet to be awed that life returns again
in all those places that the sun makes new
so we rejoice in the slow upward climb
and let our bodies cast away their pain

no time to change from what i used to be
but now and when it happens i must leave
not just this place but all that i conceive
to be in tune with senses that agree
in total beauty that we all can see
in that one moment when we cease to grieve
for all our losses that i must believe
will become true for what is the new me
we fall into the silence one by one
who were a certain band and knew our way
in the strong moment of unpolished youth
but there's still light the time is far from done
and there is much to do while it is day
that is my story and it is the truth

in what new name are honours to be read
by those who fall along the weary road
bearing the last and most unwanted load
of fear and horror no unblemished head
do we acknowledge all our limbs have bled
leaking the symbols of a hated code
while it was plain that nothing could corrode
either the cover or the weight of dread
but there's a message in the signal flame
as we who watch may come to understand
far past all bearing yet within our care
are those who know the truth is not a game
that all good matter comes within a hand
but must go free to rise up in the air

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

we take the pummel since we have to ride
no need to fumble there’s a ready flow
though words are warmer life retains its glow
both here and where we  see high mountain’s side
wake in new green our hearts no longer hide
from the assertion that they truly know
what is their will we’ve seen the golden blow
after the panic and we share the pride
no worse disaster that we care to mark
in daily news or nightly tale of care
can come so close or make our souls to smart
but what’s important is the end of dark
erasure of the hard weight of despair
from where it lay upon each normal heart

in all our doings there’s a rule we make
about the bounds beyond which we won’t go
those limits of the matters we may know
or of the facts in which we may partake
like the good flints that sharpen when they flake
or that swift stream with hidden deeper flow
beneath the mountain with the secret glow
all of the places that we can’t forsake
within each heart are truths that none may speak
yet in our song they’re vibrant in their call
to warm the spirit and release the mind
allowing us the harmony to seek
beyond the power of the strong and tall
right into where the force of love must bind