when fever drives me so far round the twist

i cannot be brought back without assist

yet when my mind is clear you are still bright

as summer noonday this is my best sight

of joyous wonder but the entire gist

of what i say is this that you exist

is total magic plus you set things right

this little gift of words is small return

for all those hours of complete devotion

for being there each time push came to shove

but words take time to make and each must learn

to take some time to gentle life's commotion

and know the meaning of what's truly love

against dull ground and weeds so sharply green

this early in the year what can it mean

as we inspect the gutters in clear light

nobody questions the unusual sight

yet each must know exactly what is seen

still fools expect some force to intervene

and set the balance of all things just right

the world's upset and we have lost our way

among the mirrors that we set to trap

unwary minds and those with little sense

too many seem to think the whole thing's play

as we are drowning in our own dumb crap

unable to tell true act from pretense

gaining thereby not even a tin piece

that some bright spark might give out of caprice

too keep hope going in the complex games

of pride and anger but there are few shames

that will get those who've been fucked just to cease

once they've been shown up for all time as geese

since they'd much rather go into the flames

all tortures will destroy those who are brave

no matter what they say but never mind

there are no secrets will be left intact

on this side of the shelter of the grave

hope will remain for those who still are kind

to all who know just how their world is wracked

through those dead yesterdays none could forget

times when the fattest were the most sharp set

which ended we wished would never return

still this is what each of us pays to learn

from that hard teacher whom we name regret

the many ways that life is overset

and those lost gifts for which we will long yearn

so let the drum beat none of us will leave

without a turn upon the judgment seat

so we gain wisdom from the hard result

although our purpose was not to deceive

we're forced unto it by the long defeat

which strips us of all reasons to exult

through fitful sleep in absence of all dream

to wake pursuing the first pallid gleam

within a world marked by the human stain

there's not one thing that's simple clear or plain

nothing that honest living might redeem

from what we suffer at the last extreme

paid for in horror and in stabbing pain

there's no deliverance from what we are

nor is it chosen freely in the sun

in a light-hearted moment with a smile

by each of us no favourable star

can serve to light our steps on homeward run

nor gleam and brighten on the final mile

none left behind except the final few

who dragging feet had given in to fear

and felt the cold now in the still dark air

there was no doubt but that each of them knew

no help would come not even what was due

since out beyond stood no one who would care

about such folk and none with heart to spare

for such as perish in cold morning dew

now liberation is the glory word

for when the yoke is taken off our backs

but that is not what happened on that night

the actual story’s complex and absurd

involving battles skirmishes and tax

with weeping loss of kindred truth and right

in places known lacking all restriction

we lift our heads and arms extend their reach

whilst all the silent learn to practice speech

as sterling critics take honour from fiction

with truth resulting from the hard conviction

that since no one will give what we beseech

making reality out of all they teach

we must become our own true benediction

this is a world where silence means dissent

from standard syllogisms of bright command

yet we are bound to  stay within the mesh

of human intercourse of what is meant

by these creations of the head and hand

that come together in the mortal flesh

how fresh the world was complex and still strange

as we crossed shark-filled seas with little thought

of what bright magics in the clouds were caught

or what the cities past the mountain range

would have for us instead we sought the grange

the country quiet where oldest rules were taught

in plainest movement from old is to ought

from then to now where all we did was change

into clear selves who know the middle way

by just refinement of that youthful choice

made all rejoicing under blueest sky

for we who learn the paths and tracks of day

know it's no simple thing to have a voice

and far more difficult to keep an eye

at night the sounds of aircraft blend with rain

lulling to sleep and then we're in the place

where trips begin moving at steady pace

towards the boarding steps and then again

above the clouds where everything's seen plain

in rapid motion back to present grace

with clarity we know can't be the case

facing a truth that's all shot through with pain

the earth still turns and darkness has to lift

at daily sunreturn we find each choice

to be like putting on a shoe or glove

a simple matter of the human gift

for stating facts in ordinary voice

once it is understood the word is love

at longest last we reach the furthest edge

where wisdom cannot tell us how to choose

between young follows and a few old clues

close to the end there on the final ledge

above deep seas which no one dares to dredge

is where we learn the game's to win or lose

in one short moment when we  clip the fuse

open our eyes and honour our true pledge

worlds shape each heart but hearts must form the world

for each of us in turn as we repair

to our last castles on the final hill

dreaming in hope of sleeping dragons curled

in some deep cavern far from the bright air

awaiting the command of our deep will