Between the viper and the fly

 Those folk who know the answer’s never right 

have just begun to master the bright flame,

but, while in heat, are still far from the light.

It’s not that they’re trapped in some dreadful plight,

nor that the force that binds them is mere shame, 

those folk who know the answer’s never right 

are not the ones who, gentle and polite,

have found the beast, and given it a name,

but, while in heat, are still far from the light.

If we track brilliance through darkest night,

we’ll find a clue to some astounding game 

those folk who know the answer’s never right 

taught their successors, who, in open flight,

refused to allocate some form of blame,

but, while in heat, are still far from the light 

and have not yet devised the proper rite

yet keep apart the wildlings and the tame,

those folk who know the answer’s never right,

but, while in heat, are still far from the light 

have neither vision, nor abnormal sight.

They have, instead, a proper sense of shame,

and guilt that no true kindness can make right.

There is no kindly answer to requite

the ones whose honor we cannot proclaim,

with neither vision, nor abnormal sight,

can tell apart clear day and starless night.

It’s not because they understand the game;

there is no kindly answer to requite

either hard insult, or more modest slight,

with massive weight of honest fear or shame,

with neither vision, nor abnormal sight,

the fearful power of one simple insight:

That those who cannot raise a private 

flame,

with neither vision, nor abnormal sight,

there is no kindly answer to requite.