just before sunrise

there's something out there made of dark
the lights of shops and houses and cars
lights on the streets and lights of bars
don't repel it they don't even make a mark
while up above the stars seem to skylark
down here we have our battles and our wars
our collaborations and our sudden jars
and not one of us to the power of night will hark
and yet as dawn struggles out of the east
in the dim moments before return of sun
we seem to feel a thing other than dread
still we know that the sun will slay the beast
it's half-day's reign will soon at last be done
and the night worker will now seek his bed

the truest purpose

there are no gifts that have not been earned
nothing comes easy but that which comes belongs
not to the multitudes not to the great throngs
but to those who worked and swore and yearned
those who were not for one minute turned
from the right path by thoughts of ill and wrongs
but in their hearts kept going the old soft songs
and for the goal with greatest ardour burned
now in the morning though the sky be grey
inside each human heart it's a bright sunlit blue
the story's known although it's not been told
this is the proper time and the due noble day
it matter's little what shade or what outer hue
the heart is filled with warmth the mind with gold

not for what's said

a drop or two no more the message rain
to come or not to come that's hard to say
clouds promise much but this is an odd day
the wind is light but trees appear to strain
there's a signal but one not clear nor plain
april is here and then shall come bright may
the promised showers we hope are on the way
we need to wash away the deep dull stain
so time and tide may not for any wait
but still we're driven to meet the deadline hour
there's none but us will pay the butcher's bill
or not if that's what's to be decreed by fate
while captains play at chess in the dark tower
naught's left but fumbling in a greasy till

not yet enlightened

afternoon light calm on the green
no movement now but equipoise
the absence of the girls and boys
seeing only what must be seen
a moment now peaceful serene
before we turn to learned joys
far off the bustle and the noise
but closer now the human scene
what if we turn to inward ways
paths leading deeper in the mind
to sunlit groves as yet unbought
we are not actors in these plays
a different purpose we will find
from that which once we taught

The human race

To run the simulacrum of a race
in microgravity high above the air,
eyes focused firmly on our sphere
feet on a treadmill in outer space;
that seems so odd in a small place,
a little hut located just up there
where burdens should be easier to bear;
this is a gesture of enchanted grace.
What thoughts come looking on this ball
where human life seethes and explodes,
while racing in a city far below?
Emotions formed running in free-fall
give sense and meaning to imagined roads
which we on earth may never truly know.