some other cretin gets to play the king

while i look on and take my turn to weep

some little moment and then slowly creep

out of the way to let you have your fling

laugh at the crowd ignore each tiny sting

of subtle words although the hurt goes deep

into my heart and is not soothed by sleep

yet other heroes must go in the ring

so much is read by you upon the page

in one short night beneath a lucky star

when all the symbols come together clear

not so well do things work now in this age

yet we have managed to do well so far

and may yet work our way into clean air

from heavy silence the ancestral tale

slowly emerges not in open sound

but in hard wood that pushed out of dark ground

in the hot years when work was all travail

life turned to shit and choices all seemed stale

you could buy humans at so much per pound

no honest passion in the goods they found

gods had no words but devils all were pale

this is the age when each bill is redeemed

in honest cash straight on the barrelhead

so we were told at rising of this sun

miracles now that old folks never dreamed

an end to terrors there'd be no more dread

but now it seems the whole thing was in fun

this bang and clatter signalling hard rain

must wake  you up and bring you back alert

right to the point at which you would assert

the need for honour and the weight of pain

rise from the desk and not seek to constrain

all of the patterns no longer inert

since what is left must have no time to hurt

for what you seek in heart of storm is gain

no wisdom here since what is seen must die

within the gap that our small time has left

for us to speak with those who want to learn

the tiny truths that peek out of the lie

receive the gains remaining from this theft

still each of us knows what it is to yearn

we bear sweet water in a firm green gourd

across a chasm before day fully clean

begins the business that we cannot screen

from hateful eyes yet we have truly scored

an honest mark of what no one could hoard

the patient clearing of this final scene

with the refreshment of what went between

so that you listen for that early chord

now drink your fill and do not fear to say

the needed words there is no better rule

that you may follow in this blessed place

time now has come for you to make your way

achieve the good for which you went to school

and teach them all the true meaning of grace

just name the monster and it bites your head

there's no protection from the angry crowd

once you have spoken and seen them uncowed

by tricks and weapons now is time for dread

too late for you as all your guards have fled

and you have gone far past what was allowed

all you can do is laugh at the last cloud

saying that there is time when all are dead

for those who have the duty to report

what you have done this unrelenting score

might drive them mad if the had open ears

but others wait to bring you into court

and say those words all know that you abhor

just loud enough to provoke all to tears

this is the day when they captured true blue

and mongoose died never to rise again

when laughing women children and grown men

looked at the world and saw  it grow brand-new

we all had hope that no force could subdue

our best desire and the right moment when

all hearts would cease to hurt so we could then

bring the true world we wanted into view

had at last come now all is back to where

the old men with the whip said it should be

no one would want that but it is the fact

our only memory is a passing tear

added in vain to the encircling sea

and we just laugh at the whole useless act

there is a point when having missed the boat

each steps aside and thinks that there's a way

off this hard coast out of this shallow bay

back to the heart and places less remote

than swampy shores where answers come by rote

but not this time it's late and tempers fray

sun has gone down now there is no more day

soon terror will reach out and seize each thoat

what once was magic has become no more

than one more trick and that already known

even to children so it does not fly

the others watch as every wooden door

slams shut and the cold walls of carven stone

all seem to turn their back to questing eye

there are so many words but few with weight

to break the glass and let the spirit go

just where it will we set them in a row

giving them due force early now or late

to be our keepers else to fly the gate

laughing at us since bodies move too slow

while thought and speech are rapidly in flow

though not able to carry the full freight

of what we found there is no evidence

left here today for others to enjoy

nor could there be given what we were told

needed the doing and in fullest sense

had been achieved by branding truth a toy

and turning all our hopes suddenly cold

now we awaken into one more fear

with weight of darkness and the endless sound

of frogs and insects as they still expound

their nightly messages no doubt sincere

at three o'clock though we could never care

about such matters for unholy ground

and chilly water their secrets propound

and somber mysteries move through the air

sleep is no shelter from the stalking ghost

of duty that observes no waiting time

but must alarm us at an early hour

so we discover there is no sure post

on which to rest no guard against the crime

that brought us waking here in fullest power

no hidden meaning in old cannonball

nor in silver quattie lying under grass

i find them and i pick up or i pass

they do not yield their story that is all

any may know today our scope is small

and history is not set under glass

for our perusal life is not a class

since each must fail as the old tree must fall

no wisdom here on this low mountain ridge

just a hard light as we wait for the rain

in patience but without that deeper hope

our fathers taught us we have passed that bridge

and on the other side found just more pain

with endless time longer than any rope