not so well expressed

one way to answer gives us better hope
the night beyond is not where we must stray
each chooses how to live and how to cope

the mountain does not have an easy slope
we bake and swelter under the hot ray
one way to answer gives us better hope

we tell the truth and provide no soft soap
the fountain does not clean us with its spray
each chooses how to live and how to cope

those who can't see and are afraid to grope
want to move forward but still have to stay
one way to answer gives us better hope

not one who doesn't rely on the strong rope
there are better means to die but not to slay
each chooses how to live and how to cope

between the sky and sea we have our scope
there is no star when everything is grey
one way to answer gives us better hope
each chooses how to live and how to cope

taking account

we bend the rules and cry when they are bent
names come and go but the hard facts remain
this story is well known and still quite plain
the message we received was the one sent
time that was given was the time well-lent
to each and every traveller on the train
the pleasure was received so was the pain
what we all saved was more than what we spent
no signals came from the most distant post
we waited and we longed for the first bird
to mark the summer's start and give us cause
to listen hard for waves breaking on the far coast
for random sound to turn into uncreated word
and for flawed reason to produce true laws

the weak defeats the strong

not deep the tree roots
wind takes the giants and throws
them aside like chaff

not high the mountain
wind scours them clean and leaves not
one leaf or twig still

not deep the ocean
wind moves the waves but cannot
shift the great waters

moving from the dream

who gives a moment's thought to the first act
to mark the difference between was and is
the sort of thing that makes a simple quiz
turn into horrors we don't have to exact
the meat from matters to know that a fact
each man who does not claim what's his
worlds intersect and clash but we've got fizz
the solid globes into their cases racked
have not been given what they need to get
so we are marked by time and any chance
to find our answers has been given up
we're still not sure as to when we must forget
the sound of battle still we'll couch a lance
and hope this night to drink from victor's cup

naming the craft

no matter what the purpose magic takes
a myriad forms depending on the maker
we charge the worst each with being a faker
but don't do more for our children's sakes
the bread that each new father eager bakes
is given as a sign not that he's a baker
but that he makes a home the circuit-breaker
has been turned off and now the ground quakes
where there's a reason we make a fresh spell
to give the word its meaning and to form
a newer power not one that we could name
only a traitor now would need or want to sell
the things that come together as our norm
we make it out as part of the great game