an older sort of burden

each is in turn a giver of good names
assigned to govern within lines of light
with eyes keen focused on the simple flames

it never does just to admit your aims
before the last bright bird has taken flight
each is in turn a giver of good names

we might have chosen to make larger claims
and kept our targets always in plain sight
with eyes keen focused on the simple flames

instead we set things out in complex frames
and made our object something of a rite
each is in turn a giver of good names

it's not enough to say we banish shames
and curses for we have not been forthright
with eyes keen focused on the simple flames

we turn our purposes into vain games
our chances of survival seem but slight
each is in turn a giver of good names
with eyes keen focused on the simple flames

advice to the young

you ask for gifts that last longer than gold
not knowing how the clouds assemble fast
this is the way the story's always told

we seem so formal stiff and even cold
our hearts are given to the vanished past
you ask for gifts that last longer than gold

what you expect are souls ardent and bold
whose urgencies and wishes have to last
this is the way the story's always told

but those who have bad cards just have to fold
the noble outcome cannot be forecast
you ask for gifts that last longer than gold

it does no good to scream rebuke and scold
nor nail your tattered colours to the mast
this is the way the story's always told

only the wary live to become old
those who are foolish cannot take the blast
you ask for gifts that last longer than gold
this is the way the story's always told