Mango Walk

it's called a bridle path but you must walk

for safety's sake along the mountainside

i've never seen a person who would ride

and many a laden donkey that would balk

of going that long road of grass and chalk

look to the left and death is a quick slide

in the warm rain and plenty bush to hide

your worthless carcass and no one to talk

the map is silent on who owns the place

nor does it hymn the brightness of the green

and noisy leaves in the sun's final ray

as all is captured in transcendent grace

eyes do not understand what they have seen

and mind is turning to the coming day

a fairy circle where no fairies went

on dew-wet hillside in the still-grey light

a youthful mind gives meaning to the sight

but older heart recalls and is content

merely to pause and let the eye's descent

on harsher images and recent blight

blot out that peace still the calm old forthright

urgings of memory will not relent

now golden mushroom at the porch's end

in northern morning brings back younger days

a world adjacent just beyond the veil

so wait to see what messages they send

while the sun rises to its noontime blaze

and all the forest seems now to exhale

this is the point where truth turns into pain

but you can't flinch that choice was long since made

so there's no option left but fold and fade

that's the old story there simple and plain

you can't hold back either the sun or rain

but must peel off in time from the parade

return to starting point in the dim shade

straight to the place that none can ascertain

when the call comes we cannot keep back tears

although we know just what we will be told

time has its way of fading out the line

and making us forget the many years

that pass and vanish into the long cold

journey that leads towards the last incline

this single purpose is one most unfair

to take us out and take away our pride

leaving us nothing but this naked hide

for those who rule to laugh and prod and stare

declaring the delight to be most rare

and our request for some relief denied

the better for a young fool to deride

just how we shiver in the nighttime air

we have to laugh since that way we get paid

the pittance you believe we most deserve

for making this whole scene the sort of show

to compensate the pain that will abrade

the strength of mastery and must unnerve

even the ones who truly fail to know

into dull silence fall the  poorer type

day upon day they give up on the fight

learning each time that no one gets it right

for any other tale is so much hype

the better-off might rage or else might gripe

as long as ruler stays just out of sight

since even fools can tell that this is blight

and not the sweet fruit going overripe

what each is given turns out not enough

to ease the suffering when it must come

each takes the burden almost as a bet

and thinks that he's the one who will be tough

who will say nothing without being dumb

managing to pass through without regret

this is the verb that we declare must stand

for place and season taken out of time

by our decision rendered full sublime

by simplest action of creative hand

uttered each morning by serene command

the sound itself is richer than each chime

of golden bells tuned to a perfect prime

while the symbolic meaning is so grand

all that we say can be reduced to this

concision of significance and sound

where every symbol strains into the light

yet not a thing is here that we could miss

even if we retreat to harder ground

since we have turned our backs upon the night

there is a weight of darkness in each heart

we have been told a legacy of rage

product of history that we assuage

but cannot deny our only sacred art

is to record it and to find its start

on the first ship  upon the oldest page

of the driest book fallen from ancient age

to sum it up recall it and impart

weighty words that make it simply matter

entomb all thought until it is past dead

and will not rise again within our time

what is most needed is the force to shatter

bring out the secrets held within each head

restoring  this whole world to the sublime

now this is where i set the further bound

and will not cross nor will i leave behind

a single thing to show that we designed

the means and method wherewith to astound

all of our fellows nothing i have found

could serve to ease the pain of your weak mind

on this bright day when you are left half-blind

in this last place on the unholy ground

now where i set the limit of true time

you dare not pass nor tell me otherwise

than what i know to be the honest hue

of morning having at last heard the chime

and seen the waking of some fresher eyes

in light that lets all decent folk see true

your eye is locked upon the circling shark

so now we come to one last bit of lore

a simple word you would not say before

this solemn second so the very spark

of light on hungry tooth must make its mark

and yet you think you still might know the score

and not yet be aware of that last door

now yawning open to the angry dark

you know what brought us to this honest place

where stories come to bump against the wall

of total silence it is not a force

that shows itself on each suburban face

it is instead the power to enthrall

both the sophisticated and the coarse

words measured in a simple steady beat

symbols of who we are and whence we came

become so soon the means of giving blame

to painful past so much is angry heat

we find that every tale is incomplete

and each hard word remains a source of shame

since it can't matter who has won the game

but only who has felt the last defeat

if this is victory and the true tale

of how we got here in so sad a shape

perhaps we should give up and let the land

be what it was before the first grey sail

came over the horizon by the cape

and the false admiral made his demand