a late discovery

our proper kingdom's in another place
of roots and memories we're not bereft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

the world we have's no longer filled with grace
past is from present by a great sword cleft
our proper kingdom's in another place

we find we're going at too great a pace
our hearts are certain that the action's deft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

none goes before to bear the gilded mace
an object of great value and great heft
our proper kingdom's in another place

not one is certain what's the proper case
nor how to separate the warp from weft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

exhaustion is inscribed deep in each face
we've given all we can nothing is left
our proper kingdom's in another place
and now too swift and hurried is the race