Mango Walk

this does not reach the end of all the facts
a moment more and we achieve a peace
a red ball bounces just short of the crease
and someone counts off numbers of impacts
this story has a paucity of acts
for no good reason nor out of caprice
the process won't begin unless you cease
and all that matters is who first reacts
now this is not the tale of any liar
but a sad history of many years
given to us by those who would not turn
their heads to look at friends sent far higher
since that would show the heavy flowing tears
and now each memory is left to burn

our sentiments became a heavy yoke
under the cloud we wait for time to pass
and do not cherish fragile flowers of grass
spring gives us more than what's beneath the cloak
so much to do before we hear the stroke
the morning seems to us as clear as glass
and still our hearts are deep in the morass
we feared the storm for long before it broke
so now we listen for the sound of time
or else for music that announces fear
the background radiation of our season
we made our very hope into a crime
turned expectation into one more fear
and as our last salute forbidden reason

this is the root of every sort of cry
you can't dig deeper for you have hit rock
your arm has felt the whole force of the shock
and each of us who knew how to apply
the proper treatment when things went awry
knew better than to laugh or fleer and mock
so many things to do when time must dock
the tails of those who're neither swift nor shy
this is the censorship of sober mind
a measure of the passion we must bring
to all the tasks left in the fading light
those who are watching will not be too kind
they are not here to listen to us sing
and know too well that soon it will be night

you see no symbols written in the air
but those who rule us say what they observe
and you are never given chance to swerve
and must say that you too can see them there
a single voice a single oath to swear
that is the thing that will a foe unnerve
and so we face the mystery with verve
drawing a line across the vacant sphere
divine some system and you get the sense
of who the agents are of this control
not just the faces staring from the sky
whose images might be a great pretense
but the fine figures of the dawn patrol
who do not slacken and who cannot lie

you let each creature measure out a span
and every foot of distance means some hope
the watchers keep a firm gaze down the slope
but things won't matter when they're in the pan
your mind will labour under heavy ban
and body need the ministry of soap
before the process reaches proper scope
but that's been all accounted in the plan
you drew the map and let each one decide
just how the journey would begin and end
as long as you controlled the realm between
the purpose of the travel's just the ride
however much we might mock or pretend
not one of us can hide just what we mean

yours is the echo of the last complaint
we do not ask just how it came to fade
upon this soil so many were betrayed
and their words come to us in manner faint
we don't expect to find a simple taint
on anything that we would want now made
for this is where things properly arrayed
are to be brought we blame only the saint
for what we are become this much is true
there are so many urgencies to make
the centre not so much what we require
of all the places where good things accrue
this one alone we cannot soon forsake
but now we are supposed to yield the fire

in time the music grows a fuller tone
all of the echoes come to signify
a weight that has to overcome the lie
and ring within us when we stand alone
what matters in the end down to the bone
is not the shape that brings joy to the eye
but one more thing that we might not descry
that counts much more when any have to groan
let each fond moment count for what it means
not to the highest but the lesser sort
when all the world returns to the first point
all must account within the set routines
but need not give each one the same retort
since we will find the times not out of joint