november and still green

 

all history boils down to who we are
each of us products of contingent fact
the cards in all their rows are ever stacked
against our hopes we make and then we mar
so many things there is a constant war
all of our lands with terrors have been racked
these choices are all consequent on act
we set our sights upon the brightest star
the sun tells us as much as we could know
about the day and what it might contain
and then we each set out and add our spin
so much to do under the steady glow
so many things to fill up each small brain
while each of us vainly expects to win

there's still a glow

 

if you can find a place within your heart
for all the light that fades at end of day
you will know something of the human art

we're climbing a huge mountain from the start
at first it's easy and we think it play
if you can find a place within your heart

but then we come to a much harder part
uncertain how to go or if to stay
you will know something of the human art

in sunset skies we see the small birds dart
not knowing whether predator or prey
if you can find a place within your heart

you place your luggage on the waiting cart
and where you may then find it who can say
you will know something of the human art

the highest peaks are not found on the chart
and to achieve them takes a stranger way
if you can find a place within your heart
you will know something of the human art

long time ago

 

a farthing end of plain white soft-dough bread
enough to stave off hunger and its pain
you eat it swiftly and you eat it plain

there's nothing like the pain that rings your head
you know that change would go against the grain
a farthing end of plain white soft-dough bread

we hear the stories of the walking dead
you point out to us the last purple stain
before the fall of night and the hard rain
a farthing end of plain white soft-dough bread