26 July 2013

at the beginning

no trumpets echo in the deepest night
each is alone and must make their own way
towards the portals that let in new day
lacking the hearty pleasures of insight
and most uncertain still the bastard fright
will not much longer have unfettered sway
within this realm nor will the foolish bray
insisting on what cannot long be right
what we find true belongs to honest chance
the golden bloom that in the dawn we pluck
with loving thoughts arisen in each heart
ready the while to furnish our advance
with certainty that goes beyond plain luck

and all the wisdom that is from our art

15 July 2013

by good chance

we are not measured rightly by good chance
our hopes are limitless but not our skin
there are no victors ever at this dance

they told us this was the time to advance
that all the old faults had been cast in bin
we are not measured rightly by good chance

our wounds will never let us jump or prance
and when we are related we're not kin
there are no victors ever at this dance

since it's a game whose players can enhance
their virtues best by adding to the din
we are not measured rightly by good chance

nor yet permitted to take up a stance
above the fray our only hope is sin
there are no victors ever at this dance

but there are still fools who think it romance
and who believe that there's a prize to win
we are not measured rightly by good chance

there are no victors ever at this dance

07 July 2013

a simple song

viewing the tree in full and honest leaf
wet with the rain and startling in its green
indecency of summer is to mean
both more and less than normal plain belief
that nature is a sort of crafty thief
taking all life once she has set the scene
and leaving nothing but the space between
the moments of creation and sharp grief
for here is full eruption of true life
at its great peak of wealth to be adored
by all who wish to see it lasting long
yet who forget both efforts and hard strife
in hope to keep eternal the true chord

and hear within each heart a simple song