Mango Walk

had closed the ways and frozen every road

each of us certain that no river flowed

and turning inwards for the gentle glow

of  home and hope that love will soon bestow

on all of those who have found out the code

of normal joy there's no more human mode

for us to find nor for the heart to know

yet as the dark descends on the cold city

we're held together by another light

clearer and kinder than we might deserve

safe in a time we know for rough and gritty

and made secure by truth instead of might

we find the gold around the final curve

these are the laws with which all must comply

within the bounds not just of this one state

but under all the norms of human freight

as though we were not only passing by

like winter birds up in the cloudless sky

each on its way towards a waiting mate

with certain knowledge of the coming date

true clarity of vision in each eye

so duty comes upon us and we weep

for all those moments when we could not stand

in proper place right by the open door

where ordinary watchers just might keep

a welcome jug of water close to hand

and for the hungry perhaps something more

no echoes but the silence is so loud

that we are caught between the dark and pain

of interrupted morning once again

when rushing with all ants in the huge crowd

each is obliged to do what is allowed

take up the load and soak in the old stain

just hope that we are moving with the grain

and all the while refrain from being proud

those are the rules and they were clearly made

beyond the veil since they’re a simple law

meant to apply in every human course

until recall of all our deeds shall fail

then in good time we’ll offer up the flaw

leaving the payment to a lesser force

just so we're measured each and every day

each purpose is the same to be the best

the angry and the ones who acquiesced

in the strict rules by which we willed to play

our world turns all experience into test

they said to us and we thought it a jest

until the last good choices went away

each purpose is the same to be the best

at this long game and not to be depressed

is what the teacher said and we were grey

our world turns all experience into test

with each achievement losing all its zest

once skill has turned it into just more play

each purpose is the same to be the best

so that is all the worth we may attest

while each of us has some good word to say

our world turns all experience into test

each purpose is the same to be the best

unto the earth from which they first arose

that's the most certain the most profound trend

even for one who best withstands the blows

of evil fortune or of cruel fate

falls to despair then rises to high state

no epoch should be measured by one rule

yet we insist that far beyond the cool

and shaded halls where measure has its sway

all things are governed by a simple tool

so each becomes the hero of their day

just past its height the moment seems to bend

with all the weight of ages that could close

cold time's long judgment that will never mend

either warm eyes or the dull hearts that froze

from lack of feeling or the heavy freight

of knowledge that would rise and not abate

from the bright ocean to the chiefly stool

while other wisdoms might in time unspool

we were not shown the truth but in one way

which was to lead us all back into school

so each becomes the hero of their day

there's nothing more on which we must depend

between the morning and the next repose

when all the hours will with clean music blend

so that our thoughts will come out sweeter prose

all of our motion take a smoother gait

while vision leave  us with no dark to hate

returning light finds each beside a pool

bright with our hopes and in the morning cool

though being clear and apt enough for play

we can be certain that none is a fool

so each becomes the hero of their day

we have been warned against the last misrule

of ancient dodderers sunk in their drool

their grimaces the doltish things they say

enough to know we're past this basic school

so each becomes the hero of their day

there's never pause to think we must be past

the urgent moment when we were beset

by what seemed armies that could not forget

the banner that was once seen on our mast

from mountains coloured by no faint regret

yet we must move to wait would be to fret

and patience is for those who have not passed

the urgent moment when we were beset

from every side but still would take the bet

against despair we could not be outclassed

from mountains coloured with no faint regret

each could discern what would not be upset

till beyond hope all pilgrims would hold fast

the urgent moment when we were beset

right at the point where all the roads had met

and journeys would have reached their end at last

from mountains coloured by no faint regret

the urgent moment when we were beset

your choices come down fast to none at all

an echo of the truth is no reward

since none will hear you if you have to call

out through the darkness that shall swiftly fall

when hope and vengeance reach their first accord

your choices come down fast to none at all

a world once large has rapidly grown small

and all good options have gone by the board

since none will hear you if you have to call

so half the planet listens to this brawl

while all the others look away quite bored

your choices come down fast to none at all

you've lost the plot been cast beyond the wall

finding out now just what you had deplored

since none will hear you if you have to call

in utter silence you confront the squall

with all the energy you can afford

your choices come down fast to none at all

since none will hear you if you have to call

their reds and yellows dull on the dark ground

so much of sorrow is already plain

to us who listen as the boughs complain

at the winds passage with a sighing sound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are one more sign of life's passing campaign

against eternity this is one round

so much of sorrow is already plain

and we're the losers since we never gain

a single inch nor hope for a rebound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are but the markers of our lost terrain

someone will come and heap them in a mound

so much of sorrow is already plain

it is reality nothing arcane

our normal vista not a thing profound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

so much of sorrow is already plain

when those who listen know how best to hear

and do not injure those who hold most dear

the hidden blessings of the final mile

rather they wish the urgent to beguile

expecting that the best might engineer

sounds that will please the most discerning ear

and lead once drooping eyes to shine and smile

the age of wonder has no fixed return

but comes upon us as we seem to find

not a changed world but a remarked abode

the home that we have loved for which we yearn

that seemed so hidden for time out of mind

appear before us as we climb the road

but went rejoicing into the warm rain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

so many choices into the mix tossed

almost at random it all seemed so plain

in the beginning we counted no cost

as being worth waiting no text was glossed

for hidden messages all was just gain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

a world more troubled a future star-crossed

no brilliant thoughts emerging from each brain

in the beginning we counted no cost

instead we are the ones who now are bossed

ordered about and marked with a sad stain

so now more grimly we face what we've lost

knowing that morning will see the first frost

that signals a new winter with its pain

in the beginning we counted no cost

so now more grimly we face what we've lost