starlit time

no accident of language catches quite

the changing shades of meaning that reflect

not what is said but what we could reject

if well presented to our proper sight

but when we take as given in due right

and not as secrets of some hidden sect

they are the matters we have truly checked

and we are lost deep in the summer night

yet no one wonders at the altered state

nor at the clash of symbols that is seen

by those few waking through the starlit time

eager  to find a different sort of fate

but not to learn just what it ought to mean

nor yet the purpose of the long hard climb

the morning chime

fearful and waking is no normal state

but leaden hours induce no better heat

than mental light and thoughts of long defeat

in bitter summer we’re past the first gate

deep into the dark country bearing freight

of so much history still incomplete

all of it human both truth and deceit

all to requirement but none of it fate

so measure that we find the true belief

is what we know and give to all our folk

upon their waking to the morning chime

of bells that have not known a moment’s grief

but ring the ending of inhuman yoke

and bid us all achieve a better time

for all some light

there are no answers but the simple fact

that we have asked will make some things more clear

even to those for whom the worlds appear

as cheap illusions or as the abstract

daubings of visions that might not attract

the subtler gaze here in this colder air

what we must ask is that the wise compare

the truths of things and then that they just act

not all who reach this place have learnt to look

at the right angles where they might discern

those matters not for ordinary sight

yet what we find in not so secret book

for those who have the time truly to learn

is that there is each day for all some light

best means of good accord

resounding horns in deep glittering cave

not music now nor urgent call of hunt

a message that is both banal and blunt

containing nothing that we need or crave

yet full of meaning those who are so brave

may striking upward swiftly to confront

the enemy who blasts may hear them grunt

with sudden shock of nothing left to save

our hope is not in music nor in joy

of victory hard won by those who fought

without the expectation of reward

we seek instead the means to best employ

the tools of wisdom and the ways of thought

to bring about best means of good accord

the better life

those places that are marked on every map

we drew in childhood to ensure our play

had structure in the mind that they would stay

solidly longer than the infant pap

of other games would drift through every nap

shaping the dream out of imagined clay

to make a brightness greater than the day

when ordinary life was only crap

from word to vision the true path is clear

so that you take it with eyes truly cold

through the divisions of a world in strife

with all the forces that would shred and tear

your heart and spirit as you become old

reject them all and choose the better life

to win or lose in grace

all that we know has been subject to loss

of definition and of common sense

so we make of the remnant a pretense

and aim to sneak our last hard words across

the barrier between plain truth and dross

but find that we are caught up on that fence

lacking a guide and with no good defense

our coins have come up wrong side on the toss

no messengers will reach the happy place

where children think that justice is at home

to  give report now that is no regret

for those who stand to win or lose in grace

or find what’s hidden underneath the foam

the seat is ready and the board is set

no way back to beauty

when after hard night’s sleep you wake to shock

of world everted by some horrid act

that frightens into childhood though the fact

is not so dangerous as to unlock

those charging monsters that good adults block

assuring you that though we’ve been attacked

the enemy will suffer the impact

and we will be as stalwart as the rock

the sounds of battle will not this day reach

our tender ears the voices urge stay calm

just go about your life and do your duty

yet they are silent those who ought to teach

the urgent lesson that there is no balm

to ease the pain and no way back to beauty

when the waters burn

some answers teach us that we have to ask

in simple words but make the complex set

of terminologies our broadest net

the tool that’s aptest for this ample task

of abyssal exploring those who bask

on  the warm hills they who will never get

how hard the job is whose feet are not wet

they’ll not discern the world behind the mask

but on some morning when the mists depart

those who go furthest out may well discern

in the sharp moment of deepest desire

the one thing missing to complete each heart

at the right moment when the waters burn

with the clear light of universal fire

cliff-dwelling swallows

cliff-dwelling swallows in the dryer vent

are a connection that we have to face

between free nature and the harsh rat race

at intersection of domestic content

where meaning  action symbol and intent

all come together in a single place

as bird and woman each concede a space

and neither knows just what the other meant

the niche that out of nature has been set

for me to watch as swallows make their home

is given proper purpose by the flight

of urgent swallows leaving as the wet

signals of springtime depart from the dome

of bluing sky and cheer  me by the sight

long after the bright spring

there are some gains from adding years to life

then there are losses from the very start

that cannot be avoided by the art

or skill that teaches ease of horrid strife

although the world with pain and death is rife

we don’t just throw the bodies on the cart

and pass on by each of us has some heart

yet still we know we must go under knife

no magic keeps us hidden from the fact

that life’s a process with an ending point

and not some bird forever on the wing

this play must reach at last the closing act

the times must be put into proper joint

and winter come long after the bright spring