the living stream

had we the story told both rich and deep
we would not now have access to the light
but still we have our honesty to keep

the richness of the colour outlasts night
whatever comes will not be only ours
still there is joy at presence of the sight

there is no legacy of these plain powers
at once the movement seems quite correct
just hidden though are many lovely flowers

the worshippers belong to no known sect
under their flag there's never any fear
the shouting and the cries have no effect

each of us knows just how much to bear
we have no guardians and we must climb
each single day until we've made a year

but this is no simple matter of mere time
though life be short the living is quite long
to celebrate and cheer it is no crime

so much is here that others might deem wrong
and yet we do it that's the point of all
our plain doing and the rest's for song

we journey upward though we fear to fall
nothing here can challenge our desire
to answer joyous the direct and noble call

these hopes and principles will not expire
through every vein the happiness will run
we've faced the night and the most dreadful fire

and now we each stand laughing in the sun

no memory and no regret

there are no spaces for new life to breed
under these shadows we abandon hope
the message is too blatant to soft-soap
there's no reason for action and no need
for anything but wailing vultures feed
upon the scraps of life lying on the slope
we will not struggle and we cannot cope
the words are there but nobody can read
let us begin the dance and let the line
slowly begin its exit from the scene
while numb the audience sits on its hands
what's left will crumble under the cold brine
beneath the sun slowly will fade the green
and silence will be lord of all the lands

once there was wilderness

step by small step we mark the proper places
these tiny touches make matters true and real
it's not just knowing you see we have to feel
the ownership and lordship of these spaces
each person seeks to leave their honest traces
down on the floor you sit or else you kneel
to rest and listen and then to make your spiel
while simple light plays on our waiting faces
the words mean something but we can't yet grasp
all that is signified by such coherent sounds
as penetrate our minds as now each waits
for that fresh moment when everyone will gasp
but not dare pass one metre out of bounds
carefully watching just who comes in the gates