Mango Walk

look down on misty clouds close to the shore

where mystery proclaims that nothing's clear

though past the age where monsters might appear

you aren't yet sure you truly know the score

what might crawl out and scare you to the core

or fall quite quickly from the cloudy air

and steal your heart before you are aware

you cannot tell you have not passed the door

now in this region there are laughing folk

whose task has been to load your head with words

apotropaic and triumphant both

enough to tell the horror from the joke

or scare the rats and the small hungry birds

away from plants that need their urgent growth

 those who would listen to the tricky sun

expecting that its laughter portends good

are certain that they have not understood

when they look up and see the staring gun

truth does not liberate this fact will stun

the childish mind that thinks in terms of should

and sees the living man as saint in wood

finds now that something different has been spun

into the shadow no one seeks to go

but those deep voices and their angry tone

have more to say and seem today more true

about those matters that not one could know

before the knife had cut through to the bone

exposing so much sorrow to the view

attend the manner that the mountain breeze

has shaken many needles to the road

they look like symbols of an arcane code

fallen beneath the old brown willow trees

some pattern of the light might have to please

one hurrying to reach his warm abode

as symbol of the meaning that was owed

although we learn there are no guarantees

words on the ground leave nothing to the air

not even recollection that they passed

mere indications of improper shape

that might in time mean more if we would dare

risk what is signified by one huge cast

or give up hope that any could escape

o this is measure of the past long dead

a memory of fears that judgment set

in fading colours but without regret

the ancient dragon is still being fed

is satiated in its golden bed

in full repayment of each human debt

accept this vision do not get upset

you are not paid for suffering or dread

what we are taught will not serve as a guide

on the new road the old maps have been lost

though for some sign we have for so long yearned

the message comes to buckle for the ride

accept the risks and wait to learn the cost

for now we see the forest has been burned

excitement ends and the red sun sets

on a cold day so all is bathed in fire

clean before dark and though all choice is dire

and all our challenges will increase debts

there is still thought that what we see as threats

might in due time turn into something higher

a victory of what we most desire

no matter what there will be no regrets

all chances come to this a chilly plain

marked by detritus of the shattered yoke

so lately broken and the changing tide

has come to cleanse the last of that old stain

making all ready for the morning folk

so that our hope is worthy of their pride

without aversion we escape the dark

yet one more time and bring from the hard past

much more than hope a sense that at long last

it has become our turn now to embark

for the clean realm where choices are not stark

and where the normal soul won't stand aghast

at sight of change the chance has come so fast

but we have met it with a rising spark

the clouds will clear after a gentle rain

on fresher sights than have been here before

so we will get the chance to start our run

upon a path that for a time is plain

in a new age where we've been told the score

beneath what seems to be a smiling sun

those who are bored expect the world to dance

in complex time or to produce new sights

while wondrous odours emerge in the nights

and simple beauty their days should enhance

their every word the wisest should entrance

bringing about as yet unthought delights

exalting them to even greater heights

but leaving not a thing to luck or chance

there is no rule but we expect a break

to come our way and all the roads to go

just where we want since each of us believes

fate speaks in our tongues and bids us take

all we desire and we've no need to know

anything more for fear that truth deceives

we tell ourselves so many foolish lies

about the past and who and what we are

reducing every symbol to a scar

and so becoming what we most despise

our only truths appear in deep disguise

as if reality has turned bizarre

or we had lost sight of our guiding star

and all the world become strange to our eyes

vision's enhanced by what we seem to fear

as bearing us right past the edge of pain

as what we learn is given proper shape

so much we find when no one else will hear

the honest word nor see what seems most plain

instead they moan that life is one more rape

what came at the beginning was mistake
words uttered by a fool and said in haste
that altered nothing and were soon erased
the wisest turning swiftly to a flake
meanings unclear and symbols made opaque
by those whose urgencies had been debased
so early on now we think it bad taste
all that is left of truth a distant ache
only the wind recalls what might have passed
simple exposure to a world of joy
a door now closed forever to our thought
as into silences our hopes are cast
we watch as others the last goods destroy
and wish them happiness with what they've caught

no need to mention all that has been told

those sighs that pass when so much has been said

to fill not time but worlds entire with dread

but this belongs they tell us to the old

not those who in those ranks have been enrolled

to fight hard battles for a little bread

not wondering what happens to the dead

nor why they take such risks for tawdry gold

now we must ask for mercy and receive

what gifts we can and hope for something more

while there is light right here where no dogs bark

as the earth turns while soft voices deceive

and not so gently we are shown the door

and told to take our guerdon in the dark