fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
all our words add up to quiet
not a thought we have of sound
light and shade here do abound
the wise man's eternal diet

sing aloud and each may listen
hour on hour of meaning froze
into place by knots and bows
while outside the grass will glisten

each reply will come uncertain
nothing's left to random chance
any fool can learn the dance
well before the final curtain

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (negative avatar)
at each corner of the crossing
stand tall statues of the keepers
stern they are and quite forbidding
but one seems to smile in secret
let the watcher pause a moment
and the hidden power will touch her
not for us the open comment
hearts are not scared of the darkness

still we want to run together
turn away from normal questions
earn the truth that we were promised
while the power around us falters
long departed secret master
tells us nothing we find useful
rather he seeks to mislead us
draw us deeper into sorrow

at the crossing of the river
we saw miracles not happen
thunder crashed high on the mountain
but down here was perfect weather
as we sit and drink our breakfast
others plot against our freedom
but the ones who claim to guard us
can't tell arses clear from elbows

so we have ourselves a problem
no one who has sense will answer
we've been told about a vision
vouchafed only to the wisest
but the folk who claim to know it
haven't got the sense of sparrows
we are stuck with nothing better
than the hope of life unfinished


fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

March 2015

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