king of the cats

 more loud than thunder with its rumbling shout

is the clear voice that says the course is set

from west to east and there is none to let

down the lines nor to put the candles out

when storm's upon us rattling hard the spout

so half asleep and too late to regret

the cost of excess calm and price of sweat

we still confront the truth of pain and doubt

less certain that the world to which we'll wake

shall be the one in which we went to sleep

no matter what the colour of the skies

we live to understand the great mistake

to learn about just what we get to keep

and what to make of the long stream of lies