after reading

 now i am older than my vanished friend

words reach across and do not hesitate

i cannot think what led to this long wait

 

all this long time must come to a sure end

tides have to rise and tides have to abate

now i am older than my vanished friend

 

we know the moment when light seems to bend

to our command and moments to conflate

into a single sacred sense of fate

now i am older than my vanished friend

at a hill gate

right there on edge on mountain lip see cloud

swift move through sky through steady clearest blue

with every second become something new

voices within declare you have been cowed

not knowing yet the force that is allowed

nor proper motion ready for its cue

on neither side is the eternal view

but every sound right here is sharp and loud

so you were eager then to find a space

just for yourself and had so much to prove

and so much time or so it was you thought

being a fool now there is little grace

for you to get into the rightful groove

and the robed judge has come into the court 

eternal i endure

 so we discover that we have found hell

right in this place beneath the smiling eyes

it seems so normal calm and lacking smell

 

you tell us not to cry out nor to yell

nor in our shock to indicate surprise

so we discover that we have found hell

 

there is not much that anyone could tell

you'd have to be right there to hear the cries

it seems so normal calm and lacking smell

 

all that we have is the remaining shell

of who we were something you would despise

so we discover that we have found hell

 

right where we thought and we could not rebel

against our very selves in our own guise

it seems so normal calm and lacking smell

 

there was no signal no last warning bell

we got there on the road of simple lies

so we discover that we have found hell

it seems so normal calm and lacking smell

uncertain pilgrimage

 each writes the tale  upon a golden leaf

no safer record for so short a time

age after age the truth beggars belief

we think that honest labour is a crime

when all our hopes are cast into the slime

your choice is simple just cast out the blame

the monster's wild that you thought mild and tame

no hope is placed in partner or in friend

who knows the rules of this most profane game

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

 

the winner turns out just one more old thief

who casts his words in good old-fashioned rhyme

and promises that he'll be firmly brief

but does not move you into the sublime

before the clock has uttered its first chime

such matters will not lead you out of shame

but are the sort of thing that fools might claim

to make you bow or lead you now to bend

hoping to turn you from your steady aim

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

 

pain of great loss produces no more grief

than could be borne in such a foreign clime

as this there is no wisdom seeks relief

or hopes to gain a dollar or a dime

we've reached the bottom and we must now climb

past all the horrors that we cannot name

knowing that no good thought will stay the same

and that our duty no one would commend

still though our feet are tired and very lame

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

 

prince you have mastery of wind and flame

your state is great in glory and acclaim

but to this act you may not condescend

beyond the limits of the human frame

we seek the melted snow of last weekend