peering into the dark

the shadow stays while earth turns at its pace
we name the hours and seem to name them wrong
we're horses handicapped in the ten-furlong race

outside it's hard to read the message of each face
the night gets shorter though it seems too long
the shadow stays while earth turns at its pace

it seems to us that we've just marched in place
waking we eat and drink but we are never strong
we're horses handicapped in the ten-furlong race

the years have left with us far more than a trace
of pain and sorrow we've beaten on that gong
the shadow stays while earth turns at its pace

wring out the towels we've cleaned up this space
and now we see it crowded by the throng
we're horses handicapped in the ten-furlong race

what matters in the end but style and grace
we hope we'll be remembered in the song
the shadow stays while earth turns at its pace
we're horses handicapped in the ten-furlong race

the old neighbourhood

what we are is subject to constant change
new faces and new people on the street
there's more variety in those we meet
but all within the normal human range
saying the places that we know are strange
makes us forget that those who greet
our glances are still as good folk and sweet
as those who used to work at the exchange
so what they look darker or have broad faces
so what their voices have a different tone
they share our urge to ramble and to roam
they've learned to love our happiest places
we are no different once we reach the bone
this is our hearthplace and our common home

a hard time waking

the trees reach up to claw the purple sky
morning arrives with all its normal flair
the rumble of far traffic and the blare
of railway horns as the trains rumble by
i struggle to think clearly and ask why
i've got to shift the burdens that i bear
when no one seems particularly to care
whether i smile or laugh or even cry
there's nothing that we do that matters
to those we serve who never see the task
as other than a chafing irritation
swift they may be with the lie that flatters
but it is easy to penetrate the mask
and laugh at what they take for aggravation

what's truly crucial

the burden never lightens it is borne
over the centuries on unbent backs
we do not count the pain that racks
each of us we do not feel the horn
as it drives into us we simply scorn
the uncivilised and shameful hacks
whose weight on us is the worst tax
of all the bads by which we're torn
name something and it does not die
there is no magic in plain speech
who faces demons should not flinch
live long enough to give them the lie
to what you can to chide and teach
and never retrocede a single inch

the flags have been flown

when travel is not limited by time
the journey will allow for proper leisure
we won't arrive all covered in grime

at our destination lies the treasure
the long-sought ancient noble artifact
whose very existence brings us pleasure

to tell the truth requires simple tact
beyond the word the thought takes shape
with all our power the the word is backed

the ocean is turned by one long cape
the salty spray awakes the sleepy mind
we pause and then rewind the tape

the message isn't lodged in what we find
uncertainty will govern all our deeds
and in that regard we're seldom ever blind

the breeze on the high pond bends reeds
the rise again the moment the wind falls
to know this does not satisfy all needs

but on the proper way to wisdom's halls
we must examine closely all that's said
the message on its upward journey crawls

from place to place from head to shiny head
we're forced to swift reliance on our feet
but know we'd rather have remained in bed

and what we've found is that the thing is sweet
that gives ups not just pause but light
as long as it doesn't bring us more heat

the message seldom arrives but at night
the placard has been nailed to a tall tree
we know that none will anguish at the sight

and when we halt we will have reached the sea