a churchyard near sada

 she was the elegant the fashion plate
the one who set the standard for the rest
who thought herself the luckiest and blessed
demanding always to be set in state
and yet though she might chasten and berate
was still by joy and sunlight all possessed
and knew those things that make the morning best
now in the concrete she also must wait
what must be said by others has been said
the corpse is burned and ashes have been placed
in the flat wall now silence will remain
when all the mourners from the yard are led
and one day memory shall be erased
and on the shore will fall the steady rain

a fractured symbol

 

one little moment of a rougher hue
we let the light refract and then we smile
so much the eye and mind have to beguile
this empty heart of life we bring to view
not merely in the forms of white and blue
but as we measure up and down the pile
through understanding of both skill and style
we ring the values back from false to true
all of the colours have come flooding back
after a day we spent in monochrome
yet what we have is not enough to praise
our thoughts revolve around plans of attack
not limited by the bright high blue dome
a matter now of seconds not of days
whatever happens we can never raise
eyes that are attuned only to see lack
while feet are not permitted yet to roam
to all those places within normal gaze
the ones who win will have to leave the track
not knowing how they'll find a safer home
where weight of fortune cannot force a way
such quiet messengers have much to say

the ancient art

 you know the meanings of the ancient art
but have no need of what the words may show
through all the seasons we come to the heart

truth is not bought or sold in any mart
all of the rivers first must cease to flow
you know the meanings of the ancient art

the honest actor says he plays a part
but never lets on just how much you know
through all the seasons we come to the heart

to win or lose we can't claim to be smart
we let the wind decide where it will blow
you know the meanings of the ancient art

you stay while we make our plans to depart
leaving the seedlings their best chance to grow
through all the seasons we come to the heart

if we cohere then you must come apart
all becomes clear during the afterglow
you know the meanings of the ancient art
through all the seasons we come to the heart

weight of passing time

 

all that we see resolves itself as gold
what has been asked is never quite enough
to give as good an answer off the cuff
as that superb one which we had been told
by wiser sorts in the high ranks enrolled
more than this word we count as a rebuff
the manner sordid and the method gruff
this is mind's winter all the hearts are cold
i can't forget that will not be allowed
so few the memories distant the place
and now we listen for another chime
with hearts so heavy and with heads all bowed
not caring any more about disgrace
but feeling all the weight of passing time

all light and breath

 

we think all light and breath must come to halt
no time will pass between the first and last
moments of absent time have lit and passed
no stars will move across the nightly vault
against eternity we'll make assault
and at vain time our stern defiance cast
knowing from the first breath we are outclassed
but in our hope and pride we still exalt
both love and life without a hope or fear
our one true obligation to forgive
not those who harm but only those who bless
who think it matters that the turning year
must like a massive measure sort and sieve
still we go forward and we won't regress