truth cuts like a dull knife and we are found
out of our proper spaces and not sure
of how to get safe back or what the cure
of this ill time will be the harsh compound
of present agony and glory drowned
with all our magic proved sick and impure
not much of what we are can still endure
but for the present we are all unbound
not what you are but how you may perplex
those who would harm your hopes and lay you low
is all the matter this is the true sign
that must the mean and hostile ever vex
leaving behind a steady even glow
as we pass on along the ancient line
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