out in the haze

a journey does not end when you arrive
at what you think's the honest destination
the travel's not the complete dedication
you have to do much more than just survive
there are so many tasks you must contrive
to secure a just and proper allocation
of all due benefits and that's the concentration
that we must get if we wish to live and thrive
at some point we wander into the full light
and are caught wondering just what we did
to find ourselves in this unusual place
it's never about duty and not about right
instead we must uncover all that's hid
and only then can we hope to win the race

a distant fire

hours that pass are filled with things that burn
all is made grey with weight of soot and dust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

there's nothing here that we now ought to spurn
the truth's contained beneath the solid crust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn

the air with turbulence and hate must churn
we fear the outcome of the least sharp gust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

the ash that falls will fill many a large urn
flames far away produce their own dark rust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn

we pay a price to live and a price to learn
the thing turns out to be another bust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

what we have got we still have got to earn
we've not yet learned to be the ones to trust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn
spring is now gone but we want it to return

the oldest longing

a sort of knowledge comes with every pain
the body reveals secrets one by one
we long in drought for the reviving rain

there's much to notice that is never plain
things don't just happen when you draw a gun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain

to find an answer goes against the grain
you're not the sole contestant in the run
we long in drought for the reviving rain

small rivers make no currents in the main
the journey's finished before you've begun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain

we end the cycle but it must start again
what marks us most is what we will most shun
we long in drought for the reviving rain

in every choice there comes a point of strain
things are not lit as clearly by the sun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain
we long in drought for the reviving rain

no paradox

there's time to pause and take a little stock
the body's faced the strain but may be worse
life comes to us with all the weight of curse
it can face hell but cannot withstand shock
we spend our days it seems right in the dock
with so much guilt and suffering to nurse
there's no real rest until we reach the hearse
and the penalty's contained within the clock
week after week of working and being wired
by tea and coffee till the blood's on fire
and now the pause that has been truly earned
we have to run the race till we're retired
and even then we'll pay for each desire
we enter water and we leave it burned

an evocation

a shade goes up though night has yet to fall
the calm dim silence moves me to the heart
each has to answer when we hear the call

times might be different life might just appall
the actor might forget he plays a part
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall

the sun goes down it's golden fiery ball
will light the places where the day must start
each has to answer when we hear the call

i have to act but choose right now to stall
my life's been measured and sold in the mart
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall

i haven't spoken but i should have the gall
to state my piece and not to give a fart
each has to answer when we hear the call

thinking of movement will make me feel small
my worldly goods will not fit on a cart
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall
each has to answer when we hear the call

the force of memory

the sounds of music go out to the night
distant dead voices living through the wire
a kind of magic this the electric fire
brings hope and passion as well as gentle light
the echoes that appear are soft and bright
the body not the mind will sag and tire
a heart that beats the notes of noble desire
catches the nighthawk in the midst of flight
what lies beyond's in shadow for these hours
a deeper darkness that hides under trees
softening rhythms that pass through air
we're too far out to come beneath the towers
but burning odours come upon each breeze
passion remains passion and normal care