we have the power

slow tempo of the morning little measure
of what will happen shortly not a chance
that what we find will really be a treasure

no choices come upon us in advance
we contemplate in fine no magic forces
across the fields no phantom ponies prance

objects of our desire have their own courses
we do not hold them unless they need to be
held in restraint like apollo's golden horses

from no kindness does any need to flee
in shape and power the moment passes
none that we've known or wish ever to see

we see the lions plain without our glasses
they stalk the plain but do not find their prey
around us move unknowing silent masses

those who are frightened of the open day
giving no voice to what they most desire
but all are yearning to find the proper way

to unleash all the tempest and the fire
that we keep hidden sulking in our cage
we've never had the half we could acquire

and that will keep us in a thorough rage
mistaking our compliance for our pain
these matters come out clearly on the page

each of us tainted by the human stain
endures the sting of love or hope or night
not knowing that what we can see plain

comes from our own unmistaking light
jewel that forms when we the moment shatter
each facet that we note is burnished bright

the glow and glory over all we scatter
not for us such valued things to hoard
all that is true will come one day to matter

through every river we shall find a ford
this is the natural and the human art
to push our way through heavy wall and board

and snuggle firmly in the happy heart