geography is history

where the place is not the people what's seen
beyond the moment where sight can connect
a momentary gathering of cause or effect
those who are to come and who have been
the ones who come from the locales between
will in their proper time choose or reject
the answers that are given what we reflect
is all the colours spread from red to green
emotion or inaction what we've been told
is that we matter but that each alone
is not important that at least we'll give
all of our purpose to turn lead to gold
and when we've learned we're wrong atone
but then what reason would we have to live

not enough to console

what words there are have not the vital force
there's never sufficient healing in our hearts
life proceeds onwards in its normal course

whether on foot or on mounted on high horse
we aren't required to do more than our parts
what words there are have not the vital force

stream must flow full strength from the source
the waterwheel provides the blow that smarts
life proceeds onwards in its normal course

life's not to be priced or traded on the bourse
the heart's made vulnerable by pointed darts
what words there are have not the vital force

the moment's one that calls out for remorse
but that may cause more pain than all our arts
life proceeds onwards in its normal course

this is the point where sense and heart divorce
our hearts and minds are far beyond the charts
what words there are have not the vital force
life proceeds onwards in its normal course

distant prospects reconsidered

at this remove the world becomes too strange
for understanding yet we work our wills
upon the ones that mark the greatest range
once great mountains now just gentle hills
with greatest ceremony the spaces marked
become the holy places for such odd folk
as those who when the dragon softly barked
conceived that they no longer bore the yoke
of such a servitude as not one would despise
but understand the purpose we have made
the beast that took all nature in its eyes
departs and leaves us but a darkish shade
marking the world the lightest of the kind
unclogs the senses and redeems the blind

refining what's in the pit

black dirt red clay we watch the cords stretch out
these are the signs of change or so we're told
the day is warm but that's not why we're bold
those boundaries of detail we shall not flout
up until now all that we thought was doubt
of anything being done till times turned old
no thought of change here expenditures of gold
might or might not have made the worker shout
no name or number given but still the signs
are clearly laid out we've not been deceived
a newer process has begun and at long last
we watch the markings and the taut blue lines
some message it is clear has been received
and emptiness is thrust far to the past
yet omens taken and the dice being cast
the earth no longer clings to the broad tines
the shape of things now passes the conceived
behind us wave the thin but earnest pines
we little know the changes they've perceived
seasons of drought or else the lightning blast
the rumble comes and goes this is the name
of what's long sought-for and the normal flame