deontological understanding

there's sense enough to make the structure work
in ways the framers would have thought bizarre
our aim is ever the most distant star

we will not fail we will not seek to shirk
our duties though realities may jar
our aim is ever the most distant star

the day is clear but even through the murk
we would have seen our target from afar
our aim is ever the most distant star

we won't let dragons of suspicion lurk
the results of our efforts none shall mar
our aim is ever the most distant star

none of us pause for quiddity or quirk
past failures and disasters are no bar
our aim is ever the most distant star

we'll let the fool and liar go berserk
our obligation's to go beyond par
our aim is ever the most distant star

we have no fear or bomb or gun or dirk
honour is gained not lost with any scar
our aim is ever the most distant star
that is our duty that is all our work

inside out

 

we left a scar where forest once had stood
our actions driven by a sort of pride
and so we let erode the mountainside
and let scrub grow in place of the great wood

allow us not a moment to deride
the ones who thought that they were doing good
and did those things they had not understood
letting the mountain and the spirit slide

the moment that we acted that was crime
we knew it yet we did it at that time

the ones who told us knew well in advance
that good would not come of so hard a choice
but left all in the hands of horrid chance
keeping full silence we did not give voice

for gail -- ii

let us remember what the best times are
hold fast to them though winds blow hard and cold
you are my morning and my evening star

between us i am glad there is no bar
coming together makes us both seem bold
let us remember what the best times are

our journey takes us both to places far
this is our story and it shall be told
you are my morning and my evening star

the light you shed will never burn nor char
of you i sing and of you shall i hold
let us remember what the best times are

we seal our feelings in a magic jar
they are for us our silver and our gold
you are my morning and my evening star

there is no trade in market or bazaar
of what in this small space we shall enfold
let us remember what the best times are
you are my morning and my evening star
 

The ancient way

 

It seems to me, though I'm not the best player,
we treat the world of dragons as a game.
For their attacks and hungers we don't blame
but celebrate, as if we did not care,
for vanished village or for mountain bare
the beast that desolated with a flame
the marvellous places we had sought to tame.
We praise the dragon, curse the dragonslayer.
Of Perseus we seem to say the least
although we know that upon alien strand
his spear straight-pierced the monster's horrid gorge;
instead we sing of the great hungry beast,
and in our narrow, comfortable land,
do execrate the hated name of George.