19 September 2008

benevolent humanity

bodies and trees are aching for the rain
as in the evening we note fading light
so much of living involves daily pain
and waiting for the outcome of each fight
to be recorded or to see the right
sense of desire intrude into the known
realm of division where each mortal groan
tells that the mortar truly met the pestle
and into powder we grind the soft stone
the gentleman at least is not a vessel

within each heart we hide a single grain
of honour that we hope will still burn bright
if ever we can truly ascertain
not just the force of ordinary might
but that when we ascend the greater height
an honest glow will rise from in the bone
the deepest fear at last be overthrown
and hatreds will find no room to nestle
but from our minds with fullest force be blown
the gentleman at least is not a vessel

time it turns out has been our greatest bane
a statement that no one would say is trite
it leaves us with a visible slow stain
that turns at last into the final night
we speak in whispers of that lasting plight
but not a one of us has cause to moan
each goes to the last end wholly alone
standing on a stark old bridge or trestle
with nothing left to pardon or atone
the gentleman at least is not a vessel

prince as you sit upon your golden throne
you have no reason to curse nor condone
nor any champion to fence or wrestle
a better crop you could never have grown
the gentleman at least is not a vessel

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