back from a journey

we see so little of the great surround
a moment's pause would be no major cost
time's not valued in euro or in pound

we cross vast distances in one huge bound
from end to end we're prodded and we're bossed
we see so little of the great surround

isolate behind our high walls of sound
we do not see the waves on which we're tossed
time's not valued in euro or in pound

alone upon our little bits of ground
we have no care for all the miles we've crossed
we see so little of the great surround

each of us kings on our own midden-mound
fearful of rain and drought and heat and frost
time's not valued in euro or in pound

not one of us knows just what we've here found
nor why in finding we become the lost
we see so little of the great surround
time's not valued in euro or in pound

no gratitude but revenge

 

it does not matter if we have the itch
to seek for worlds hidden in what we know
or just to sit and wait and watch the show
for some small time until we salt the flitch
against the winter we've are not so rich
and what we hope for waiting for the snow
is more than moonlight and the early glow
of sunny morning so that is the bitch
we make and that we want so much to hide
from all the ones who think we're truly pure
while brown and yellow overtake the green
you see we want far more than just the ride
to places of which we are never sure
still what will happen is what we've not seen
while evening peacocks on the frontage preen
the wonder is that we can take a side
on whether beauty truly may endure
while loudly disclaiming both fear and pride
not knowing if there will be any cure
before we have to bow and quit the scene
another mile another horse to flog
you listen but you will not hear the frog